Returning Heroes
by jypzrose
Summary: Ron, Hermione and Harry have returned to Hogwart's to help Dumbledore. They aren't the same people they used to be. Can they, with a little help from Ginny, catch who's up to no good, and maybe heal themselves in the process. Primarily R/Hr but also H/G.
1. Prologue

Title-Returning Heroes

Author-Jypzrose

Spoilers-all four books

Pairings-R/Hr, H/G

Rating-R for mature themes. May go higher later 

  
  


Summary-Set seven years after graduation. Seven years ago, Harry Potter disappeared out of his best friend's lives with no explanation. Now, he has returned, asking for help. The three return to Hogwarts, to help sort out a threat against the school, going undercover as teachers. What and who will they find there? Can they get past the pain of betrayal to trust each other again? Will love find its way back to them?

  
  


A/n-This is my first ever HP fan fic. I normally write in the Buffy fandom, more specifically the Buffy/Spike pairing. So, please be kind and let me know how I'm doing, in that constructive sort of way of course. Also, this is not beta'd. I have a beta for S/B but not HP, so cut me a little slack. I catch what I can. And spell check only goes so far. :)

  
  


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*Prologue*

The boy who lived, the man who survived

  
  


Rain swept down from the heavens, not in a torrent sheet of misery, but in a gentle weeping of warm summer tears. The occasional rush of a car could be heard but at this late hour, most people were at home, cozy in their beds. The moon shone bright from between the clouds, adding its light to the street lamps. Because of the late hour, no one took notice of the man leaning casually against one of those lamps. 

His relaxed stance gave away none of the tension coiling through him, as green eyes that had seen more horror than a man his age should, surveyed the rain clouded building in front of him. NO longer hidden by round, wire glasses, the eyes were sharp and clear. His build, once too short and thin for his age, had gave way to a leanness honed from years of training. Muscles of steel bunched and pulled beneath his skin as he shifted his position. Thick, black hair-which had forever run wild in his youth-was tamed now into a tight tail at the nape of his neck. His forehead was free from the fringes of hair that used to hide the one thing that identified him better than any thing. There, standing out in the light from the lamp, was a lightening shaped scar that told all who knew the tale who he was. 

The man shifted again, heedless of the water soaking into his plain black t-shirt and jeans. He was as comfortable in this attire as he was in the flowing robes he normally wore. He had grown up a Muggle, and had been trained as a wizard. He learned a long time ago to reconcile the two.

Now, to most people, standing in the rain and staring at a darkened building was unusual at best. But, the man wasn't looking at the darkened windows. He was carefully watching the one near the top, with the light shining through the shade drawn against it and the shadow that occasionally crossed in front of it. A glance at his watch confirmed what his internal clock was telling him. Two a.m.

Well, Ron always liked to keep his own schedule, he thought, a hint of a smile tugging his lips. Now's as good a time as any, I suppose, he told himself, pushing away from the post and jogging lightly across the street. Dread warred with excitement the closer he got to the building. How long had it been? Six, seven years? It was a wonder to him that graduation seemed like lightyears away, instead of less than a decade.

He found himself remembering that day, in an effort to keep his insides from freezing. He reached the glass and steel door and walked through with images of the sedate commencement ceremony, then the not so sedate party at the Burrow afterwards. It hadn't wound down until well after midnight, and even then, he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had stayed up. They'd lay in the garden behind the house, talking and laughing about their adventures and planning out their lives. Even Ginny, who still had a year left in Hogwarts, seemed to have a handle on what she wanted to do. The final defeat of Voldemort had left them all giddy and bright eyed for the future. 

The others had gone in when the sun had crested the horizon, emblazoning the sky with a brilliant pallet of pinks and oranges, before fading into a vivid blue. He had stayed, however, basking in the warmth of the sun. It was then that his life had changed. He hadn't seen or contacted the other's since.

Now, here he was, trotting casually up the stairs to his best friends flat, wondering if he had the right to call Ron that after so long. He certainly hadn't acted like a best friend. Guilt stabbed through him that the only reason he was even making this late night visit was because he needed help. That was sure to make this meeting even more happy. Knowing Ron, he could expect a strong clip to the jaw for his troubles. Another smile tugged at his lips with that thought. It would be no less than what he deserved he supposed. Hopefully, after initial anger and violence, Ron would calm down and listen to what he had to say, before throwing him out.

In less than a minute, he found himself staring at the door. He found it odd, that he could run into battle against the forces of darkness with barely a twinge of apprehension. But facing his best friend after years of absence had terror slicing through him.

He lost track of how long he stood there, just staring at the nondescript piece of wood. It did dawn on him, that to anybody that might come along, he would look extremely suspicious, or just plain crazy, standing alone in the middle of the night staring at a door. So, with this in mind, he raised his fist and knocked.

At first, he didn't hear anything, and wondered if Ron had put a silencing spell on his flat. Then, a gruff sounding curse filtered out to him, followed by footsteps. He barely had time to take a deep breath to calm himself when the door swung open. He suddenly found himself staring up-Ron, having always been tall, seemed to shoot up an extra inch or two since he last saw him-into the unshaven and angry face of his friend. Suspicion gave way to disbelief which in turn melted into anger in eyes that were so blue they resembled ice. The last time he had seen Ron, the red head had just started to ease into his height and build. Now, his bare chest was thick with muscle and his arms tense with it. A pair of ancient sweats hung low on his waist, letting him see more of Ron than he had ever really wanted to. 

With heart pounding in his chest and his mouth as dry as any desert, he raised his eyes. Blue clashed with green and it was like and explosion.

"Well," Ron started, in a voice that belied the violence singing under his skin. "If it isn't Harry Potter. Forgive me if I don't give much of a shit." He snarled, moving to close the door. It stopped when Harry's hand spread flat against it. "In case you didn't get the hint, I don't have anything to say to you." The wand he'd been hiding behind the door was quickly brought into view, warning Harry that he wasn't afraid to use it.

"Listen, Ron. I know you don't owe me anything, but we need to talk." Ron snorted at that, but didn't try to slam the door again.

"Fine." He said after a minute. Harry looked at him expectantly for a minute, until he realized that the other man wasn't going to let him in.

"Ron." He said with a sigh. "You have Muggles in this building. It wouldn't do to go discussing stuff that they won't understand in the hallway." 

"It's the middle of the night, Harry. Nobodies awake." Was the answer, but Ron did move inside, leaving the door open for Harry, who walked inside and shut it. The red head stalked across the living room, which was simply furnished with a couch, chair in blue and coffee table, to the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the flat. He snatched a bottle off the surface and took a deep swallow. Since his hand was wrapped around the neck in a vice grip, Harry got a look at the label. Seemed that Ron liked to sleep with Jack Daniels now.

"Ron. Can we sit?" He asked, not flinching from the heat in the other man's eyes.

"Go right ahead, Harry. I don't know where my manners have headed off to. You'll forgive me of course if I stand?" Sarcasm laced the words thickly. Harry bit back a sigh, reminded himself that he knew this wouldn't be easy and moved to sit on the couch. Once he was settled, he looked over at the man he still considered his friend.

"I need help." No reason to dodge what he was there for with small talk neither felt like engaging in. The bottle Ron was holding paused in mid air while his eyes stared incredulously at the smaller man. Then, it landed with a crack back on the counter while Ron practically fumed with anger.

"You left, seven years ago, without so much as a piss off to any of us, then waltz back in here expecting me to help you?" He asked, his body rigid with tension, his voice shaking with it. "Sorry, Harry. The days of me following you blindly are long passed." He then turned towards the door and walked to it, as if telling Harry his presence was no longer tolerated.

"It's about Dumbledore." That had Ron pausing in his tracks. Harry watched him as he seemed to struggle with the want to help his old headmaster and his desire to have Harry gone. Finally, it seemed Dumbledore won, because he turned back and walked over to the chair opposite Harry and flopped into it.

"What?" He asked wearily, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the chair. Seizing the opening, Harry started to speak.

"A few weeks back, I got an owl from Dumbledore asking me to meet with him. When I got there. . .,"

"Wait, Dumbledore knew how to get in contact with you?" Accusation burned bright in the blue orbs studying him.

"Come on, Ron. It's Dumbledore." Harry felt that was all the explanation needed. Ron must have too, because he didn't interrupt again. "When I got there, I was ushered straight to his office. He looks old." Two russet brows drew together at that. Ron almost commented that the headmaster WAS old, so looking old shouldn't have been all that surprising. But then, he remembered the twinkle that was always in the man's eyes, making him seem younger than his years, and chose to remain silent. "When I asked him why he wanted to see me, he told me that there had been some trouble at the school. At first, he just thought it was vandalism from some of the more rambunctious students. Writing on the walls, some minor damage, that sort of thing. But, then, it started to escalate. Students started to get injured in odd accidents. Professor McGonogall got caught in cave in in her class room. She's alright." Harry said quickly in response to Ron's look of concern. "She was a bit unnerved, but not hurt. She managed to get her wand up and deflect most of the falling rock. The point is, they could find no cause for it. Bludger's are running wild at Quidditch matches. Almost like when Dobby sent that bludger after me, when he was trying to get me to leave school." 

"So, what does he think is causing it?" 

"He doesn't know. They can't find evidence of any curses, they've tried extra protection charms around the whole place, and things are still happening. The day I arrived, the glass in the green houses exploded. Luckily, no one was inside, but the plants were destroyed." Ron leaned forward as he listened, resting his forearms across his knees and staring intently at Harry while he spoke.

"Term just ended, didn't it?" He asked, trying to remember the date.

"Yeah."

"Has anything happened since then?"

"No." Harry stared pointedly at Ron then, his eyes telling him his suspicions. The red head realized how odd it was that he could still seem to read the eyes of the man that had walked out of his life.

"He thinks it's one of the students." It was a statement, not a question.

"He hasn't gone as far as to say so, but yes, I think he does. I would. But the fact that the person is leaving no clues behind makes him, or her, very knowledgeable in what they are doing. They are overriding spells and charms that were done by wizards that are supposed to be much more powerful than them. How is it possible? Not even Hermione could do that." Harry noticed, at the mention of her name, that Ron tensed.

"So, what do you want me to do?" The other man said after a minute. Tension still poured off of him, but he looked willing to help, even if it was just for Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore has asked me to come on next year as a teacher, to try to figure out who's doing it. I want, would like." He amended, after the ginger brow that shot up. "For you to do the same. I've already spoken to Hermione..."

"What?" The word came out softly, but it had the effect of a gunshot. Harry stuttered to a stop, cursing inwardly. He knew it was too much to hope to be able to slide that little bit past Ron.

"I've already talked to Hermione. She's willing to help."

"Oh, well, isn't that just cozy and nice. The great Harry Potter decides to grace us with his presence again, and Mione is just ready and willing to help. Isn't that just bloody wonderful." Ron sneered. Harry sighed, fought against the urged to beat his head on the wall. 

"Ron, it's not like that. She wants to help Dumbledore, and keep Hogwarts from getting shut down. I was hoping you would feel the same." Ron scowled darkly, then turned his eyes away to stare at the wall. Harry could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, and wondered if he had wasted his time. Ron sure could hold a grudge if it suited him.

"You know Ginny's working there, I suppose." Of all the things that Ron could have said, that was the least expected. Harry blinked twice before it seemed to sink in. And when it did, a stab of pain lanced through him.

"Yeah, I know." He answered, dropping his eyes to his hands, which were tightly clenched in front of him.

"If you go near her again, I'll kill you." Their eyes met at this, and Harry had no reason to doubt him. Not trusting his voice, he just gave a jerky nod. "So, when do we head back to school?" A smile that didn't quite reach Ron's eyes spread across his lips. Harry returned it, knowing it didn't reach his either.

"Two weeks before term. Gives you time to get what you need in order."

"Fair enough." Judging that the conversation was over, and he was going to be able to walk out with all his parts in place, Harry stood to leave. He got as far as the door before he looked back at Ron.

"Thank you."

"Not doing it for you." 

"Fair enough." Harry said with a nod, then turned back to the door.

"Harry." He paused with it partially open, looking back at Ron. "You ever going to tell me what happened?" Harry seemed to think on this for a second. He would have said yes if he'd just spent the last half hour talking to the Ron of old. He didn't know this man staring at him so intently.

"I don't know." Ron snorted bitterly and sat glaring at the door long after it had shut.

  
  


~*TBC*~


	2. Chapter 1

*Chapter One*

  
  
  
  


Hermione Granger smiled wide as Hogwarts came into sight. The horseless carriage trundled gently past the main gates, the lack of driver and steed making her view uninhibited. For a moment, she was transported back to a time when she would be arriving as a student, her two best friends by her side. Adventure was all but guaranteed when you spent most of your free time with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

But, as her eyes glanced around the interior of the carriage, reality crashed down. She was returning to Hogwarts, under the guise of being the new Muggle Studies professor. Alone. Harry would be there of course. And according to the owl she received before leaving London, so would Ron. There was no doubt that adventure lay on the horizon, but it wouldn't be faced with the same solidarity that had once existed among the three. Time and circumstance had destroyed that. She hoped with all her heart that they could find it again.

She blinked back the tears that stung in her eyes as an image of them-young and smiling-rose up in her mind. Harry Potter, with wild black hair and piercing green eyes hidden behind round wire glasses. Instead of resenting his celebrity, he stood up to it, and made it mean something. He wasn't just the boy who lived. He was a hero.

Ronald Weasley-the ginger haired, freckled faced boy with a temper of fire. He forever struggled to stand apart from his five brothers, then from his famous best friend. He had become a hero in his own right. Never a prefect, never Head boy. He was so much more than that. To her, in particular. Then, there was herself. Smart, logical and dependable. It had taken her finding out that she was a witch and meeting two special boys for her to realize that life wasn't all about books. She'd broken her first rule in the old halls of Hogwarts. She'd never regretted it.

In fact, the only true regret she had in her young life had to do with that red haired boy. That was part of why she had so readily said yes when she received that first letter from Harry. She wanted a chance to fix what she felt had gone wrong. She only hoped that it wasn't too late.

She supposed that she should have been mad when she got the owl from Harry after so many years of nothing. However, there was no mistaking the way her heart pounded when she saw the familiar scratch of writing across the parchment. She didn't know how long she had stared down at the letter, remembering that last time she had seen him. Graduation. Everything was so perfect that day. She had been accepted in the Division of Magical Artifacts department, Ron was going in for Auror training and Harry had been courted by some of the biggest Quidditch teams in the world. She and Ron had finally quit dancing around their feelings during their sixth year and Harry had finally noticed that Ginny was more than just his best friends little sister. So many dreams, so many hopes. So much excitement. All dashed with the realization that Harry was gone and the news of Sirius Black's murder stole their youth in ways that Voldemort had never managed.

She'd still taken her position at the DoMA and Ron had reported for Auror training, while Ginny had gone back to Hogwarts to finish her last year. But none of their hearts were in it. They waited for news of Harry, dreading opening the paper and seeing the headline that he was dead. No owls came to tell them he was all right. Ginny was beside herself with worry. Hermione threw herself into work. Ron was angry.

Then, the unspeakable happened. News had been slowly leaking in that known Deatheaters were being found dead. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind who was doing it. When Voldemort had finally been defeated, his followers had scattered. The first time their Lord had gone into hiding, they had been allowed to turn tale and say that they had been forced into his service. They were not allowed such liberties the second time though. The most notable was Lucius Malfoy, who was still at large. Their Lord was gone, but they were still dangerous. As was proven on a crisp night in December, two years after Harry's disappearance.

The Ministry of Magic had taken precautions to help protect Ron and Hermione's parents. The couple had been instrumental in bringing down You-Know-Who (as so many people still called him) as well as being friends with Harry Potter. So, it was without fear that Ron had kissed his mother good bye for the evening and had gone to meet Hermione. Molly was alone at the time, as Arthur and Percy were still at work. The twins had moved out the year before, Ginny was at school and, of course, Bill and Charlie were off living their own lives.

Ron and Hermione had been enjoying a quiet dinner at a small Italian restaurant in Muggle London with her parents, when they had been approached by a Ministry official. The man was visibly upset and had completely forgotten to put on Muggle clothes before coming inside. Hermione remembered vaguely the whispers and stares of the people around them, but it all seemed to fade away when the man started to speak. Molly had been in bed when the Deatheaters apparated into the house, somehow managing to bypass the security that had been put in place. Arthur and Percy had come home in the middle of it, not knowing what was going on. They never had a chance.

She remembered, now, how her parents had gasped in shock and the warm feel of her tears as they fell unnoticed down her face. But most of all, she remembered looking at Ron while grief, disbelief, anger and a multitude of other emotions had crossed his ghostly pale face. She had reached out to clutch his hand, hoping to comfort him. He snatched his hand away, looked at her with those icy blue eyes filled with unshed tears and had disapparated without a word. The Ministry official had then had to memory modify all the occupants of the restaurant so they would forget what they had seen. Then he had taken Hermione's parents to place them in a safe house while she had apparated to the Burrow. What she saw would fuel her nightmares for the years to come.

The only thing left standing was the burnt out shell of the house. The garden had been reduced to cinders, as had the shed behind the house. Ministry officials were everywhere, picking through the destruction to try to find any clues. Her wide, horrified eyes stung with smoke and tears as her gaze fell upon three cloth-covered figures. Her breath froze in her throat and her heart seemed to stop. She ripped her eyes away and started to search for Ron. When she found him, he was with his brothers, who were all red eyed and sniffling. Ginny was huddled in the protection of Charlie's arms, crying against his shirt. Ron was standing a little away from them, his tall frame rigid and his fists clenched while his eyes surveyed the remnants of his home. 

He didn't seem to notice her when she'd walked over to him and slipped her arms around his waist. Hermione tried to absorb the tension running through him and silently convey that he could let go, that she was there for him. Surprise momentarily blotted out her grief when he stepped away from her and walked away. She stared after him as he went up to one of the officials and started to talk to him in what was obviously a heated conversation. At one point, the man apparently said something that Ron didn't like, because the next second, the man was on the ground clutching his jaw. Bill had to restrain Ron from attacking again.

The following days were a blur to her. Ron made it impossible for her to talk to him. Ginny had needed her help, and she consoled herself with that. The turn out for the funeral was huge. Everyone at the Ministry attended as well as all the Weasley's friends. It wasn't until the day after the funeral that she had finally been able to corner Ron.

The second she apparated into his flat, she could tell he had taken out his grief on his belongings. Not a thing was left untouched she'd noticed as she'd picked her way through the rubble to his bedroom. She found him, sprawled across what was left of his bed, an empty bottle of whiskey laying next to him. She didn't know how long she had waited for him to wake up, but when he finally did, he didn't look pleased to see her. In fact, they had the biggest row of their relationship amongst the debris of his belongings. It still brought tears to her eyes when she thought of the things they had said to each other. By the end of it, she had left, her battered heart finally broken.

Hermione knew, deep down, that what happened had been brought on by anger and fear-as well as alcohol. But, at the time, she had been as hurt and scared as he was. It had taken her a long time for her to be able to accept her part in the fight. If she had just been more stubborn, more open to his pain. But she was smarting from his rejection of her, not to mention her own grief for his parents and Percy. By the time she accepted her mistakes, it was too late to rectify them. Now, she found herself alone and more scared than she ever was before.

So, when the letter had shown up, she was more than willing to forgive Harry his lack of communication, if only to recapture some sense of normalcy in her life. Without another thought, she had sent back an owl telling him that of course she would help. It hadn't taken her long to get her life in order and to take a leave of absence from her job. She ignored the part of her that was whispering happily in her ear that maybe, if Ron agreed to help to, she'd be able to right what had gone wrong between them. She still loved him, as much as ever. She could only hope that he felt the same.

The carriage rolled to a smooth stop in front of the castle, pulling her out of her revery. When the door swung open, she gracefully stepped out. Delicately shaped brows pulled together when she found no one there to meet her. She was sure that Harry's last letter said he would be there when she arrived. Then, it dawned on her where he must be and she smiled. Knowing her bags would be taken to her room, she started across the grass, taking her time to re-familiarize herself with the grounds. 

She took a deep breath of the fragrant air that was sweet with summer flowers. A light breeze tugged gently at the hem of her skirt and the sun was warm against her bare shoulders. 

When her gaze landed on Hagrid's cabin, sadness once again threatened to overtake her. The near irresistible urge to go there and curl up in his old chair and weep pulling her to it. She had to remind herself that he was no longer there. Hadn't been since their fifth year. Just one of the many casualties of the war with Voldemort and the first dent in her heart. When the door to the cabin opened, however, she found herself willing to believe the impossible. Until of course, the tall, rather skinny, grey-haired man stepped outside, followed closely by a dog that WASN'T Fang.

Mr. Blodgett, I presume, she thought to herself. Harry told her the name of the new groundskeeper, but it hadn't seemed real until that second. She turned quickly so he wouldn't see her and she felt compelled to introduce herself. Walking a bit quicker now, she rounded the side of the castle and passed the green houses, her eyes trained on the Quidditch field in the distance.

The closer she got, the better she could see the small figure zooming around the sky. She watched as he made an incredible dive, pulling up just before crashing to the ground and reaching out for something too small to be seen from her vantage point. He braked to a stop and opened his hand. He then waited a beat before shooting off again. Hermione smiled when the sun glinted off the object just as his hand curled around it again. She came to a stop at the edge of the field to watch him, crossing her arms over her chest.

He released and caught the tiny golden snitch three more times before he noticed her. When he shot past her to catch the snitch a final time, she laughed out loud. She pulled the hair that had blown into her face from the force of wind that followed him out of her eyes. She was still smiling when he pulled around and came to a stop beside her.

"Well, it looks like the youngest seeker in a century still has what it takes." She said as he slipped off his broom. He shrugged, embarrassed and a light blush stained his cheeks.

"Not so hard to find it when you don't have other players and bludgers getting in the way." Harry replied casually.

"I suppose so." She agreed with a small laugh. She found herself feeling a little nervous when he pinned her with his brilliant green eyes. She managed not to fidget under his perusal, but just barely.

Harry studied her intently, thinking once more how he had missed so much. Hermione-while never by any means ugly-had never cared much for preening. In fact, the only time he could ever remember seeing her dressed up was for the Yule Ball their fourth year. Books and studying had been her focus in school. But, somewhere along the way, she must have emerged from behind her History of Hogwarts. Gone was the bushy hair and buck teeth (those had been fixed their fourth year). Her hair now glinted a rich, golden brown in the sun, sweeping her shoulders in a mass of sleek curls. They framed a face that was touched by the barest of make-up, her complexion as smooth as cream. Eyes the color of burnt cinnamon stared back at him, the laughter in their depths barely covering the sadness in them.

He was also glad to note that there was no way anyone would ever mistake her for anything other than female. A light blue sundress clung happily to curves that Harry was sure weren't there the last time he had seen her. A pair of legs that would have any man stuttering peeked out from underneath her knee length hem. Yes, Hermione had grown up very well indeed.

"Are you done leering at me, or should I strip down to my knickers to complete the show?" She teased. She blushed lightly at the flare of male appreciation she saw in his eyes.

"Well, if you're willing, I certainly wouldn't object." He teased back, grinning. Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed, but couldn't help returning the smile.

"Honestly!" Was all she could come up with to say in return. Harry chuckled at her.

"It's good to see you Herm." He said, turning serious. Her heart broke a little bit at the look in his eyes. Instinctively, she stepped forward and embraced him, her tight hold telling him it was all right, she wasn't angry. It was so different from Ron's reaction to see him again that he practically melted into her. His arms banded around her waist, crushing her against him. He hadn't realized, until that moment, how much he had missed her. How much he had missed both of them. His life had been a lonely one for so long, that he'd forgotten how much he had relied on them. When this was all over, he wasn't sure he'd be able to go back to that solitary existence.

"Isn't this nice?" The sarcastic voice that reached them had Hermione tensing in Harry's arms. He held her for a brief second longer, giving her a squeeze to bolster her. Then, he turned to face Ron.

"Ron. Glad to see you made it." Harry kept his arm looped lightly around her waist. He could feel the tension singing through her.

"I said I would, didn't I?" Ron challenged, crossing his arms over his broad chest and glaring at the arm Harry had around Hermione.

"Hello, Ron." Hermione said once she found her voice. Her fingers were bunched desperately in the back of Harry's shirt. That and his arm were the only thing keeping her upright. It surprised her that the mere sight of him could set her to trembling and turn her knees to jelly. But, then again, that had always been her reaction to him. Why should it be any different now?

"Hello, Hermione." They all noticed how his voice had softened when he addressed her and the smile that hinted around his mouth before he covered it up. She shivered noticeably when his eyes raked over her, picking out the changes just as Harry had. But the heat in his eyes brought about a very different reaction in her. She suddenly became very warm and felt as if she were laid bare before him. "You're looking well." He said when their eyes met again.

Her hand tightened in Harry's shirt and she managed a small smile.

"Thank you. So are you." The rakish grin he flashed her had her heart flipping in her chest.

"What? I don't get a hug? Surely as one of your best friends I deserve at least that." Harry watched the interaction between them with something close to amusement. They'd seemed to have forgotten that he was there, they were staring so intently at each other. The air between the two was as charged as it had ever been. He wondered how long it would take them to figure it out.

"Don't be silly." Hermione snapped after gathering her courage. She bit back that if he hadn't thrown their relationship out the window five years before that he wouldn't have to ask for a hug. "Of course." Her legs wobbled a bit as she stepped away from Harry and crossed to him. He towered over her by at least a foot, making her push up on her toes to circle her arms around his neck. Despite herself, her eyes drifted closed as his familiar scent wrapped around her as tightly as his arms. When the tips of his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back, she realized that she was in serious danger of embarrassing herself. She gave him a quick squeeze and stepped away. She fought the temptation of slapping the smirk of his face.

"One would think, that with age comes a certain respect for responsibility. I can see, not surprisingly, that it seemed to have completely bypassed the three of you." At the sound of Snape's sneering voice, they all had the brief feeling of being students once more. Then, a nasty smile spread across Ron's face before he turned to the Potions professor. Harry and Hermione shot each other a look before stepping up beside him, unconsciously putting up the front that as always, they stood up for each other.

"Severus Snape. As ugly as ever, I see. I'd say it was nice to see you, but I think we'd both know that I'd be lying." Snape's eyes narrowed and despite Ron's height over him, still managed to look down his crooked nose at him.

"Ron!"Hermione hissed. She didn't think it wise for him to insult the man that was going to be a co-worker. 

"What?" Ron asked, trying to look innocent. If Harry hadn't been so busy trying not to laugh, he might have told the red head it wasn't working.

"Mr. Weasley. It would do you to remember that while you are no longer students at this school, I still have seniority over you." Ron looked unimpressed and was about to tell Snape that when Harry cut him off.

"Was there something you wanted?" As soon as Snape's eyes landed on him, Harry knew that the hate that had always been present between them was as thick as ever.

"In case you have forgotten, the three of you are supposed to be in the Headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore is expecting you." Shame flashed briefly over their faces when they remembered where they were supposed to be. "And here stand the heroes that are supposed to find the culprits behind the goings on here. I know I shall sleep better at night." Snape said with a sneer before turning and stalking away, his black robes flowing behind him. 

As they watched him go, it seemed to dawn on them that they were standing together, ready to protect the others from danger. It had been done out of habit, one that apparently hadn't died after years apart. Hermione felt a surge of hope that things would work out, while Harry was happily surprised. Ron, however, scowled and started off toward the castle without a look back. 

"Bloody hell." They heard him mutter before he got too far away. Harry smiled at Hermione, hoping to wipe the crest fallen expression off her face. The corner's of her mouth barely lifted in response.

"Come on." He said, offering her his hand. She took it gratefully and the pair set out after Ron and Snape toward the castle.

  
  


~*TBC*~


	3. Chapter 2

*Chapter Two*

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Harry and Hermione caught up with Ron, he was leaning against a wall, waiting. Next to him, was the alcove holding the statue that led up to Dumbledore's office.

"Didn't want to go up with Snape." He explained with a shrug at their curious looks. He scowled at their still joined hands and pushed away from the wall with a jerk. "Let's get on with this then." He stepped inside the alcove and looked at them expectantly. "Well? I hope you have the password."

"Chocolate frogs." Harry said. The sudden start of the staircase had Ron stumble a bit. When he caught himself, he shot a glare at Harry.

"You did that on purpose." He accused as he disappeared. Hermione arched a brow at Harry who grinned.

"He's right. I did." He then stepped on the now still stair case and started to climb. Hermione rolled her eyes then followed them up. Once they were all assembled at the top, the statue started to spiral back down to hide the entrance once more. Harry went into the office first, followed by Hermione, then Ron. The sight that greeted them was expected. Snape was standing in front of Dumbledore's desk, his face blotchy with anger.

"I would be greatly remiss in my duties, Headmaster, if I did not strenuously voice my objections."

"Severus, we have been over this before." Dumbledore replied, his voice weary. He noticed them by the door and waved them inside.

"But Professor! Putting the fate of this school in the hands of a bounty hunter who's no better than a vigilante. An Auror that's a drunkard and a clerical worker that has spent the last five years dusting off pottery is practically a guarantee that this school will close." Snape insisted, his skin darkening to almost purple from not breathing while he raged. Ron was tempted to snap the professor's neck for putting down Hermione, but he figured now wasn't the best time. Besides, he was still reeling from the word vigilante. He knew that Snape wasn't talking about him with that. No, he was the drunkard in the Potion's teachers mind (coincidentally, another thing to break him in two for). So, that just left Harry. To say he was even more determined to find out what happened with Harry would be an understatement.

"Need I remind you, Severus, that when they were in school, they managed to find their way out of some very deadly situations. If I remember correctly, they even managed to disarm you rather forcefully." Snape practically bristled at that. "There is also the fact that that vigilante and drunkard have been highly effective in decreasing the Deatheaters numbers . To my knowledge, there are only a handful left. That can be accredited almost solely to these men. And that clerical worker has been head of Security at the Museum of Rare and Dangerous Artifacts for the last four years of her employ. I don't think she would agree with you that such things as Aladdin's Lamp are simply pottery." 

Hermione couldn't help the smile that spread across her face or the pink blush of pride that stained her cheeks. It was true, she had designed and implemented the security precautions needed to keep the Lamp in the museum. It was the most sought after and oft stolen artifact in the collection. Usually, the only way of retrieving it was to wait for the thief to die. Which could happen slow or quick, depending on how quickly they went through their wishes. The Djin inside extracted a heavy price for his services. Blood. Most of the perpetrators thought that they could stop at two wishes. However, only one had ever been able to resist the temptation of the third. And that was why Aladdin's name was still associated with the lamp.

Hermione blushed further at the impressed looks Ron and Harry gave her.

"But Headmaster. . ." Snape's voice had taken on the quality of a petulant child. The sound finally snapped Dumbledore's patience.

"That's enough Professor. I have complete faith in them, as do a number of the staff. You will just have to trust my judgement." The Headmaster kept his eyes trained on Snape, almost daring him to continue. Snape, however, seemed to know it was time to stop. He drew himself up and pursed his lips angrily, but held his tongue. "Now, if you would excuse us."

"Of course." Snape bit out before turning to leave. The Potions Professor gave each one of them a withering look as he stormed out.

"Please. Sit." Dumbledore waved his hand and produced three chairs in front of the desk. He waited until they were seated before speaking again. "I must first say how wonderful it is to see you all again. Even under such unpleasant circumstances. I trust you are all well?"

"Oh, yes sir."

"Of course."

"Well enough, I suppose."

The three answered simultaneously causing the old man to smile.

"Excellent. Now, Harry has informed both of you of the situation here, correct?" He waited for affirmation, then continued. "Very well. Then, I shall assign you your posts and allow you to go get settled. I will answer any questions you may have. The staff has been instructed to cooperate fully. The ghosts as well, but I wouldn't expect too much help from Peeves." They all had a chuckle at that. "Mr. Weasley. You will be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Ron's eyes widened comically and he had to bite his cheek in order not to laugh. Since his own days in Hogwarts-and he didn't know how long before that-no Dark Arts teacher had lasted longer than a year. Seemed he showed up just in time. 

"Ms. Granger, I believe you already know that you are the Muggle Studies Professor."

"Yes, sir." She answered with a quick nod of her head. Ron found himself caught by the way her curls danced around her shoulders. A familiar tightening occurred just south of his belt, making his jeans suddenly to tight. He turned away from her quickly and shifted in his chair to try to hide his predicament.

"Mr. Potter will take over for Madame Hooch as Flight Professor and Quidditch coach. She is taking this year off to travel." He explained.

"Sir, I was wondering," Hermione started, sitting forward a bit in her chair. Harry and Ron recognized the look on her face all too well. She was in full research mode. Ron half expected her to pull a quill and parchment out of her skimpy dress so she could take notes. As he pondered just where she might hide those things, his eyes wandered to the delicious swell of her breasts peeking out from the top of her bodice. He barely managed to suppress a groan.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Just supposing that the culprit is a student, there is the possibility that he or she graduated last term." Dumbledore smiled sadly at her. She was surprised to see that the spark that was always present in his eyes seemed to have dimmed.

"We have it on good authority that the culprit will return this term."

"How sir?"

"By no investigative work of our own, I'm afraid. The day after the green houses were vandalized, I received this." As he spoke, the Headmaster pulled open a drawer and extracted half a sheet of parchment. He laid it on the end of his desk for them to read.

iProfessor

  
  


Well, another year gone and I like to think that I made it a little more interesting. I definitely kept you and the other professor's on your toes, didn't I? But, not to worry. I WILL be back and I can promise even more fun next term. Have a happy and restful holiday. You're going to need it.

  
  


Your's truly

  
  


Me./i

  
  


Ron snorted in disbelief and sat back.

"What kind of git WARNS someone that they are going to cause trouble? The Headmaster no less." He scoffed in disgust. 

"A confident one." Harry replied.

"Professor, this was written before term ended?" Hermione asked, studying the letter.

"Yes."

"But there are no typewriters or computers here. Correct?"

"You know all to well that Muggle technology will not work in these halls, Ms. Granger."

"What are you getting at, Mione?" Ron asked her. She glanced over at him briefly, a frown on her face.

"Didn't you notice? It's not handwritten. It's type set."

Well, of course he'd noticed. He just hadn't thought it was important. It wouldn't be the first time she had proven him wrong.

"Wouldn't the author have wanted to disguise his handwriting to avoid recognition? It's probably just a spell." Harry offered.

"I realize that." Her words came out a little harsher then she had intended. She gave him an apologetic smile before going on. "It's just odd."

"I'm assuming you've done a thorough search of the school and grounds as well as the students belongings." Ron asked.

"Of course. Other than confiscating half of your brothers' store and some inappropriate reading material from some of the fifth year boys, we found nothing out of the ordinary." Dumbledore's mouth quirked into a smile, which Ron returned. Fred and George had bought the joke shop in Hogsmeade when the couple that owned it wanted to retire. "You must understand, that part of Severus' ire is due to the fact that we have found nothing. We have pulled the last spell out of each wand that has been in the school and are no closer to finding this person."

A soft knock on the door interrupted the Headmaster.

"Yes?"

When the door opened, Harry was sure that his heart stopped. He had been at Hogwarts for three days and had done an excellent job at avoiding her. Even when he had first met with Dumbledore, he'd had the good luck not to see her. Now, it was apparent, his good luck had run out.

There, standing in the door, holding a stack of parchment, was Ginny. She looked every inch a woman and twice as beautiful as the last time he saw her. She hadn't noticed them yet, since her view was blocked by the large bookcase behind them. It gave Harry plenty of time to look. He could feel the death curse that Ron was staring into the back of his head, but he didn't care. Ron only told him to stay away from Ginny. He didn't say he couldn't look. 

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry. I don't mean to interrupt. But I need you to sign these acquisition forms so I can owl them out today."

"Of course, Ginny. Come in."

Harry swallowed hard and sat back in his chair, wishing desperately for his invisibility cloak. He thanked Merlin when Ron stood up to greet his sister, his large frame effectively blocking Harry from view.

"Ron! What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? You could have had lunch with Fred, George and I." She shot all this off rapidly, barely pausing to breathe as Ron scooped her up in a huge bear hug. Hermione frowned again at hearing Ginny say that she didn't know her brother was supposed to be there.

"I've already eaten anyway. And I have taken a position here, so there's plenty more opportunity." He replied, positioning himself directly between Harry and Ginny when he let her go. Harry didn't know whether to curse or cheer at having his view obstructed. No offense to Ron, but he really didn't want an up close and personal view of his arse.

"Have you? That's wonderful. What will you be teaching?"

"Dark Arts."

"Oh." Two scarlet brows shot up in surprise as her mind scrambled for something encouraging to say. Luckily, she was saved when Hermione stood, drawing her attention. "Hermione! I heard you were starting here. This is fabulous." She cried, wrapping Hermione in an enthusiastic hug, the papers in her hand rustling wildly with the action. Her heart was racing with the possibility that her brother and the woman that she had always thought of a sister would finally find their way back to each other. She'd given Ron more than his fair share of scolding for letting her go in the first place. When he was sober, that is. He didn't listen well when he was drunk. Then again, he didn't listen well when he was sober either, so maybe she was just waging a losing battle.

Hermione let out a surprised giggle at being crushed so sufficiently by such a tiny woman. She was sure that her bones were going to crack under the pressure of the girl's arms. Not thinking it a good thing to have to visit Madame Pomfrey on her first day back, Hermione subtly pulled away.

"It's good to see you, too, Ginny." 

"Let's get together for dinner tonight? I want to hear all about what you've been up too." Ginny proposed, beaming. Hermione grinned back, finding the other woman's enthusiasm infectious.

"Yes, let's." She agreed, earning herself another teeth jarring hug.

"Ginny? You have something for me to sign?"

"Oh, Professor. Sorry." Ginny blushed when she realized the scene she was making in the middle of the Headmaster's meeting. She let go of Hermione and whirled on the desk so quickly, that the older woman had to clutch the chair to keep herself upright.

Ginny placed the parchment in the desk and bounced lightly on her toes while Dumbledore went over them. Harry managed to catch glimpses of her through the arm Ron had bent at his side. He decided, that frayed, denim shorts and tank tops should be illegal. At least when Ginny Weasley was wearing them. The red silk of her hair cascaded down her back to her waist, the ends curling a bit to give it bounce. The skin of her arms was pale and smooth, with a light smattering of freckles across it. He knew, thanks to one special night at the Burrow, just where else she had freckles.

Suddenly feeling very hot, Harry decided it would be best to look away. Unfortunately, his eyes landed on Ron, who had turned to glare at him for ogling his sister. The murderous glint in the blue gaze staring at down at him, worked better than any cold shower Harry had ever taken in his life.

"ANOTHER copy of 'The Do's and Don'ts of Poisonous Plants'?" Dumbledore asked incredulously. Ginny's responding laugh had Harry gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

"Yes, sir. I think one of the First years took it to find a way to poison Snape." She said in a conspiratorial tone. She didn't mention, of course, that she had actually seen one of them doing just that. She couldn't be entirely sure that it was for Snape. But she knew that's who she would have knicked it for.

"Well, I'm sure they will be sad to learn that the most poisonous concoction in that book will only give the Professor an extreme case of gas." Dumbledore answered with a smile. "There you are, Ginny." He said, putting his signature on the last page.

"Thank you. I'll get out of your way now. Bye Ron. I'll see you later, Hermione." Ginny turned to leave, but paused when her eyes seemed to catch a glimpse of the person seated behind her brother. Harry heard Ron curse softly in the second before he saw her peer around to stare directly at him. The heart that had gone silent when she walked in sprang to life in a painful beat against his chest. Time slowed as they stared at each other, surprise causing her mouth to drop open and her eyes to widen. Harry recovered first, though he had no idea how.

"Hello, Ginny." He managed around the lump in his throat. The sound of his voice seemed to jar her back to the present. Her mouth closed with a clack of her teeth and she straightened. Then, in a re-enactment of the summer before her first year, she made a small 'eep' sound and bolted from the room. Harry supposed it would have been funny under any other circumstances. However, he didn't feel much like laughing at the moment.

"Well, I'm sure that Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are tired. There's not much else to tell, so I think we can draw this meeting to a close. I took the liberty of leaving the lesson plans from your predecessors in your rooms. They are just a guide, mind you. You may design your curriculum however you wish. As none of you have taught before, I thought that they may be useful." That statement had Ron forgetting to glare at Harry as it sunk in that not only would he be posing as a teacher, he would be expected to actively TEACH. Dumbledore nearly laughed at the panicked look that glazed the red head's eyes. "There's two weeks until the start of term. I suggest you use it wisely. Good day."

"Good day, Professor." They responded, leaving the Headmasters office.

Ron waited until they were back in Hogwarts before rounding on Harry.

"I told you to stay away from her." He snarled, pulling himself up to his full height. Harry could admit that a six foot four, two hundred plus pound, pissed off Ron was quite intimidating. But the jolt of seeing Ginny and the tension he'd been dealing with from Ron had his own temper ready to snap.

"Fuck you, Ron. She came in the room where I was. I didn't go looking for her."

"HARRY!" Hermione gasped, mortified by his language.

"What did you say?" Ron's voice had dropped dangerously low and he took a step toward Harry. Harry, in turn, took a step closer to Ron. Hermione watched, fear that it was about to become extremely violent coursing through her. As if on cue, two sets of hands curled into fists as Harry didn't back down.

"Fuck. You." Harry said each word slowly, to make sure that Ron understood each syllable. 

"Bastard." Ron hissed, cocking a fist back.

i"Petrificus Totalus!"/i Hermione's voice rang loud and clear through the corridor. Harry's muscles had coiled in preparation for Ron's blow, only to retract when he saw that bigger man go ram rod straight, then slowly tip backwards to crash onto the floor. He winced at the sound of Ron's head hitting the concrete before turning to look at Hermione. She stood there, pale as a ghost, wand clutched tightly in her hand. The same wand that was currently pointed at him.

"Hermione?"

"Do I have to body bind you as well?" Anger seemed to be seeping past her fear now. Her face was flushed with it, her eyes flashing.

"N-no." He stuttered despite himself. Right then, Hermione Granger was scarier then ten Deatheaters.

"Good. Now run along and cool off." Harry didn't need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and started down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Once he was out of sight, she looked over at Ron to find, that while petrified, he had no problem conveying his anger to her. His eyes were hot with it.

With a sigh, she released him. He was up and shouting in seconds.

"BLOODY HELL WOMAN! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?" His voice boomed loudly around them, making her flinch. She felt a twinge of guilt when she saw him rubbing the back of his head.

"You were going to hit Harry." She reminded him, bending down to slide the wand back in the band around her thigh. Ron was struck quite dumb by the expanse of creamy thigh and the straight shot down the front of her dress. But once the hem was dropped and she was straightened again, he was staring at her as if she had lost her mind.

"No shit. He deserved it."

"Language!" She snapped. "And, NO, he didn't. They work in the same school, Ron. You can't expect them not to run into each other." She was exasperated beyond measure now. Her hands flew in front of her as she talked, emphasizing her point. Ron went very still at that and his eyes turned so cold she shivered.

"You're wrong about that, Mione." He said, his voice firm and even. He then stalked off in the opposite direction Harry went, leaving her alone. Hermione closed her eyes to try to rein in her erratic emotions. Once she felt calmer-although, not better-she went into yet a different direction than the men to get to her own room. As she walked, she ignored the nasty voice in her head that was telling her it was too late. The bridges were beyond repair.

~*TBC*~

  
  


a/n-okay, I know I changed the Aladdin thing a bit. But I like it better my way. :) Oh, and thanks SO much for the reviews. You guys are wonderful. Lisa


	4. Chapter 3

*Chapter Three*

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hermione wandered aimlessly around her room, the hem of her nightgown swirling lightly around her calves. She'd decided to forgo dinner in the Great Hall, and really didn't expect to see Ginny after the way the girl bolted from the Headmaster's office. Her heart broke for Harry and Ginny, almost as much as it had for herself. Life had not been kind to any of them.

Memories turned in her brain, bombarding her with images and feelings of a time not so long past. How had they gotten here, barely 25 and already so bitter and much older than their years? When had it started? Even after Harry left, Ron and her had been inseparable. She had been sure that nothing could have ever tear them apart. But something did, and now they were no better than strangers. Unbidden, the memory of their last time together, before that horrible night at the Burrow, rushed into her mind. She hadn't though about it years, mainly because of the tears that usually fell when she did. 

She sank down onto her bed and curled into a ball, clutching a pillow to her chest as it overtook her. It never felt like just a memory. She could feel every brush of his fingers on her skin, every kiss of his lips on hers, every thrust of his hips as he filled her. Completed her. There had never been anybody but him, and she knew there would never be anybody after. She'd tried to date, of course. But it was like putting on a suit that didn't fit. How could you find a replacement for perfection? No one had ever evoked even half the response that Ron could from her. Whether they were fighting or making love, or just simply talking. No one even compared. 

*Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all,* she thought, wiping tears from her face. The way Ron and Harry had almost torn into each other earlier was certainly not a good sign. She shuddered to think what might have happened if she hadn't had the presence of mind to do the binding spell. How were they supposed to work together to save the school, if they could barely stand to be in the same room?

Hermione was so lost in thought, that it took her a minute to realize that someone was knocking on her door. She took a quick look in the mirror and frowned when she discovered there was no way she could cover the signs of crying. With a sigh, she walked to the door and asked who was there.

"Ginny?" She repeated in surprise as she pulled it open.

"Hi. You didn't forget did you?" The red haired woman breezed into the room, a bright smile on her face.

"Er, no. Of course not. I just didn't think you would still want to." Hermione answered, shutting the door. She then turned to face Ginny and noted that the smile seemed a little forced. There also seemed to be some evidence of crying on the girl's face as well.

"Why would you think that?" Ginny asked with a shake of her head. The smile fell and she let out a deep breath when the other woman merely arched a brow in response. With a groan, Ginny sank to the edge of the bed and dropped her head in her hands. Hermione moved to sit next to her and waited. She didn't have to wait long.

"You know, I knew he was coming. I KNEW he was here. It just didn't feel real until I saw him." Ginny pushed her hands through her thick hair and sat up. Her eyes were shining with tears when she looked at Hermione. 

"I know. I felt the same way when I saw Ron." Hermione admitted with a tight smile.

"All I wanted to do when I saw him was throw my arms around him and wail like a banshee. Then punch him because he broke my heart." A bitter laugh followed her words. The other woman nodded absently, thinking that she had a similar reaction to Ron. *Men,* she thought with a huff.

"Are you alright?" She asked, studying Ginny's face. The red head sighed heavily and shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean, how am I supposed to feel knowing that he is alive and whole and so damn sexy I could scream? How dare he look that good!" A tinge of pink settled over her cheeks at the audacity of it. "I spent MONTHS crying over him. MONTHS! I had puffy cheeks, red eyes and a blistered nose for most of my seventh year. And he has the nerve to fly in here, looking fit and muscular. You know, in theory, a ponytail on Harry Potter should look utterly ridiculous, giving me some revenge for my tears. But NO! It has to make him look like one those dashing heroes Muggles write about. And he's not wearing his glasses anymore!" Ginny had surged off the bed and started pacing the length of the room while she listed off all of Harry's flaws. Unfortunately, they WEREN'T flaws and that just made her angrier. "He told me he loved me. And then he left. Shouldn't he have warts, or something?"

"It would be only fair, wouldn't it." Hermione agreed. She definitely wished that Ron had had some horrible disfigurement of his own, just so she wouldn't feel like some awkward school girl each time he looked at her. She'd had to struggle to keep her composure every time she felt his eyes on her in Dumbledore's office. The bed bounced lightly as Ginny flopped down next to her, her hair fanning out vibrantly behind her.

"We're pathetic." The younger woman said with a definitive nod. "How can we still be in love with the men that went on so flawlessly without us?" It didn't feel odd to her to be talking to her brother's ex-girlfriend like this. She and Hermione had always had an easy relationship, that, thankfully had never faltered when Ron had crowned himself the King Of Idiots by letting Hermione go. They hadn't seen much of each other in the last few years, but they had made sure to write often. Ginny had needed the female friendship in the wake of her world falling apart, and she supposed that Hermione needed to keep some form of hold on Ron however possible.

"I wouldn't say it was flawless, really. Despite being strong and gorgeous, I don't think they've faired much better than we have." Hermione theorized, laying back on the bed herself. Another sigh exploded from Ginny at that.

"No. I guess not." She acquiesced after a moment's thought. They stayed there, silently staring at the canopy above them for a few minutes, lost in memories of yesteryear. The silence had grown so deafening, that when Ginny broke it, Hermione jumped. "Do you supposed it's true? The rumors?"

"Which rumors?"

"That Harry's. . .that Harry's out killing Deatheaters?" She said it in a rush, as if merely voicing it would make it true.

"Yes." Ginny's eyes widened when Hermione answered without hesitation. But the other woman didn't notice as her eyes never left the canopy. Her face had turned thoughtful and sad as she went on. "I can only imagine how it was for him when Sirius was killed. I sometimes try to put myself in his place, to try to understand how he was feeling the day he left. But no matter what sorrow I feel, or how many tears I shed, it's nothing compared to what he must have felt. Voldemort and the Deatheaters stole so much from him. His parents, his youth. Hagrid. And finally, his god father, the only real link he had to his parents. I think, on some level, he was leaving to try to keep up safe. But, I also think, that he knew EXACTLY what he was going to do when he left the Burrow that day. He wasn't going to let them take anything else from him, and he didn't want us involved in that."

"But it didn't work, did it? Mum, dad and Percy." Ginny's voice sounded so small, that Hermione's heart squeezed painfully.

"No. It didn't." They fell back into silence for a moment after that. "Ginny, why do you suppose Ron didn't tell you he was coming here?" Ginny blinked at the sudden change of subject.

"What? Oh, after. . .after what happened, he took to not telling any of us where he was or what he was doing. I dunno, maybe he thinks he's protecting us. Don't understand how, though. Just being related to him put us in danger." Ginny replied with a shrug. "I think that's why he talked me into coming to work here. Wanted me somewhere Deatheaters's wouldn't be able to just apparate inside."

"Yeah." Was all Hermione said. She knew this was the perfect opportunity to question Ginny about what had been happening at the school. She was just too tired to deal with it at the moment.

"What are we going to do, Hermione?" The tone of Ginny's voice reminded Hermione of the little girl she had met 13 years ago. With a heavy heart, she turned to face that girl, to see her own pain reflected back at her.

"I don't know, Ginny. I only wish I did."

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Ron could only think of a handful of experiences in his life that had left him feeling this wretched. The first was when Hermione had been petrified by the Basilisk their second year. Followed closely by the discovery that his baby sister had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. The next event that had caused his stomach to twist and his insides to freeze was when Harry and Cedric Diggory had been transported by the Tri Wizard Cup (which had been turned into a portkey) to Voldemort's layer. There was no specific day or time in the war that followed that incident that could claim that prize, since he'd been pretty much terrified through the entire thing. The next, was the news of Sirius Black's murder and Harry's disappearance. 

But, the day his parents and Percy were killed was by far the worst. The next, worst day of his life, was the second Hermione had disapparated out of his flat and he KNEW she wouldn't be coming back. What he hadn't realized at the time was that she had taken his heart with him.

And now, there was today. 

Ron shoved an agitated had through his hair, which, with age, had darkened to a burnished copper. The ridiculous thought that he should have had it trimmed before he left home ran through his mind, when he realized the ends were now grazing his collar.

Anger, which always seemed to be at a constant simmer in his blood, was threatening to boil over. On some level, he realized that Hermione was right. He was being irrational. Harry had not sought out Ginny. And it certainly was silly to think that they would be able to avoid each other, even in a castle this big. But, rational thought had not been his friend in a long time. At least where his personal life was concerned. He lost his hold on it the night his family had been attacked. He'd do ANYTHING to keep that from happening again.

He never blamed Harry for what happened. No matter what anyone thought, that had never been it. Ron had chosen to become and remain friends with the Boy Who Lived. Even after the danger became very real. So, there was no one to blame for what happened, except for the Deatheaters. No, his anger at Harry stemmed straight from the fact that Harry had just left, not even giving his friends the chance be there for him, like they had so many times before. He broke Ginny's heart. Which to Ron, was unforgivable.

The thing was, he knew Ginny well enough to know that once she was over the shock of seeing Harry, she would seek him out. Probably shadow the man until she could corner him into talking to her. Ron did feel a slight pang of sympathy for Harry at that. Ginny could be very persistent when she put her mind to it. The second's solidarity he felt towards the other man had him scowling. He had a feeling that it wouldn't take much for Ginny to forgive Harry and then work on him to resume where they had left off. No thought to who Harry was now, or the danger she'd be putting herself in. She was always a touch on the blind side when it came to him.

Which was EXACTLY why Ron had to look out for her. It was of no matter to him that she would probably not appreciate his efforts.

Vigilante. He'd had a feeling, when Deatheaters started to be found, dead, that that was what Harry had gotten up to. Rumors had flown around, hinting that it was Harry, but there had never been any proof. Until today. Dumbledore had all but confirmed it.

He couldn't say that he blamed Harry. Hell, half he reason he became and Auror himself was so he could track and capture the renegade Deatheaters and send them to Azkabahn like they deserved. But, where he chose to do it with a badge and the backing of the Ministry, Harry was out killing for revenge. And while wanting revenge was not a concept foreign to Ron, he refused to break the law to do it.

However-if he were honest with himself-no matter how much his blood boiled over the possibility that Harry and Ginny might resume their relationship, that wasn't what had him itching for the bottle in his case. No. That, he solely accredited to on person.

Hermione.

God, it hurt just to look at her. So bloody beautiful. But then, she'd always been beautiful to him. Not that he'd admitted it to anybody, not even himself , for a long time. He'd been too daft to get it until the Yule Ball. Even then, he lied to himself, saying that the only reason he as so angry she had gone with Krum was because he was Harry's opponent in the Tournament. What a git he'd been. An absolute, total prat. He would have had no one to blame but himself if Hermione had finally given up on him and moved on. Luckily for him, she was stubborn. Or, unluckily for her, depending on how you looked at it.

He was so far beneath her now, it was scary. Ron remembered the way his heart had tripped in his chest when he saw her. She was hugging Harry as if they hadn't just spent the last seven years wondering where the hell he was. His first reaction had been to rip them apart and teach him a thing or two about touching what didn't belong to him. Ron had managed to remind himself, before he took the first step toward them, that she didn't belong to him either. He didn't know it had been possible for his heart to break again.

Resentment had slammed into him at the ease she had with Harry. The one who had tossed their friendship away without a backwards glance. But when she had looked at Ron, her eyes cool, her face calm, as if he had been a passing acquaintance in her life. Like he hadn't worshiped her for countless hours and had given her his heart. Like they had never been best friends. Like he hadn't let her walk away, and never once tried to get her back.

He really was an arse.

He supposed, that's why he had asked for the hug. He just wanted to rattle her. He hadn't counted on her rattling him. The second her smooth arms had slid around his neck and her hair had tickled his cheek, he felt like he was home. Her scent-some sweet, flowery perfume-clouded his brain. It struck him then, that he could very easily lose himself in her again. His whole body had screamed out in loss when she had stepped back. He at least had the satisfaction of seeing her skin flushed and she seemed a bit unsteady. Her eyes had been unreadable, however. That was something he wasn't used to.

*What sort of mess have you gotten yourself into THIS time, Ronald, old boy?* He asked himself as he lay sprawled across his bed. The silence in the room was starting to get to him. It gave him too much time to think. And he usually tried to avoid that at all costs. He wished that he could have brought his telly. Having a Muggle born best friend turned girlfriend had had it's advantages. The first time he'd met her parents as her 'boyfriend' instead of just 'friend', Hermione had tutored him on all things Muggle. She felt it was best after his disastrous phone call to Harry's house.

So, he'd dutifully learned about telephones and televisions. Radios, computers, cell phones, streetlights and whatever else she had deemed important. She'd even sat him down and explained Muggle money to him. Something that Ron compared to Madame Trelawney's class. Although, he secretly thought that reading tea leaves was less painful.

By the end of it all, Ron had a very large headache and reckoned he could take over as Muggle studies professor. Of course, all his new found knowledge didn't seem to help when he saw all of these objects in action. All of a sudden, he'd turned into his father and stared, gaped mouthed at all the gadgetry. He'd nearly upset their table at lunch when Mrs. Granger's purse started to ring. Luckily, since their daughter was a witch, her parents understood his wonderment. 

Eventually, the novelty wore off. Now, he could blend into the Muggle world as easily as Harry or Hermione. He'd found it quite useful in his work, when his mark decided to hide from him amongst the non-magically inclined.

But, God, did he miss his telly. It made the long nights when he was home not so lonely, and helped him to alleviate boredom when he was in the field, staying in hotels. Right now, he could have used the distraction. Even his radio would have been nice, even though he had been told that his choice in music was ear splitting. Anything would have been good. As long as it kept his mind off Hermione. Or the bottle in his case.

Ron didn't even really know why he had brought it. He didn't consider himself a drunk. He could go weeks, even months without a drink. But, every once in a while, when his brain just WOULDN'T shut down-like now-he'd take a shot to get the edge off. Then, because the first shot had burned so nice, he'd take a second. Then a third. Before he knew it, the whole bottle would be gone and he'd wake up the next day with the Queen of all hangovers.

The first time he had ever gotten drunk-sick drunk-had been the night of his parents and brother's funeral. Hermione had no way of knowing that the bottle she'd found him with had not been his first of the night. He'd already been through two and had thrown them up before starting on that one. He just couldn't be sober right then. Memories and voices kept swirling around his brain, making him crazy. The knowledge that his mother would never scold him again, or tell him to cut the hair he always forgot to trim, weighed heavily on him. The fact that he'd never be able to tell his father about some new Muggle device that had come out and watch the fascination and wonder slide across his face made him want to scream. That he would never be able to tease Percy about being perfect or laugh when Fred and George tortured him nearly crippled him.

So, he'd drank. And drank, until he'd finally passed out. Only to wake up to Hermione's beautiful, hurt, yet disapproving face. He had no clue what had started the fight, or even most of what he said. He had still been pretty well pissed by then. He couldn't even say why he'd been pushing her away in the first place. But, his pain had been so raw, so all consuming, that he couldn't see anybody else's. All he could remember clearly, was the way her face had gone sheet white and her eyes had gone blank. That's when he knew he had lost her.

*Bloody hell!* He thought, getting up. All this was getting him nowhere. He decided to take a shower, then maybe read over the lesson book that sat ominously on his dresser. Or, maybe he'd just go to bed. He didn't care what he did, as long as it kept his mind off Hermione, Harry, Ginny and this fucked up situation that had him facing his past all over again. Anything, but that bottle wrapped up in one of his t-shirts, with its promise of sweet oblivion.

  
  


~*TBC*~


	5. Chapter 4

*Chapter Four*

  
  
  
  


It was amazing to the four, former Gryffindor's just how quickly two weeks could go by. Harry, Hermione and Ron spent that time interviewing and re-interviewing every member of the staff in the castle. The professors were starting to get a little testy with all the questioning, but answered again and again. None of the three could say that they'd taken well to Mr. Blodgett. He had a lazy eye that rolled crazily in his head, and a nervous condition that made that eye twitch. His voice was nasal and grating. Of course, it could have just been that they were determined not to like Hagrid's replacement. But the man unsettled them.

Ron had gone so far as to question the house elves. But, to know avail. Whoever had done the damage was good. They left no trace behind, no clues of any kind. It seemed impossible, that a place full of some of the most powerful wizards in the world, would have so much trouble catching one person. A STUDENT no less. 

Something else seemed to be at work here, and the trio was determined to find out what. 

Ginny spent her time in the library. She was the assistant librarian to Madame Pince. However, she seemed to be taking care of more and more of the duties of Head Librarian. Madame Pince was starting to talk about retiring and entrusting Ginny with more responsibility. Hermione was the one to question them, much to Ginny's disappointment. For some odd reason, she had wanted Harry to do it. She was in no way ready to confront him, but, it could have been an excuse for her to look at him without having to explain herself. 

But, no. He had gone back into hiding after the incident in Dumbledore's office. In fact, she hadn't seen much of her brother, either. It seemed, that Ron and Harry were avoiding the women. They were never in the Great Hall when Hermione and Ginny took their meals, nor had they been seen just wandering the castle. She knew that Hermione had seen Harry, and tried desperately not to bombard her with questions. But, as far as she could tell, it was only to discuss what they had found out about the disturbances in the school. The men were keeping themselves distant, and it was making her crazy.

So, when she had made the decision to talk to Harry, whether he wanted to or not, she also decided to tell Ron that as well. She knew what had happened in the hallway after the meeting. The portraits in the hall couldn't stop talking about it. Therefore, she felt the need to confront Ron first, and make him understand that he couldn't run her life. She didn't think it would go over well.

Hermione wasn't having much better luck when it came to the male part of their foursome. Yes, she saw Harry, but it was usually for no more then a few minutes at a time, and only to compare notes. He never stayed longer and they never discussed anything other than what they had found out, which was a whole lot of nothing. Even though they had shared a warm 'hello' when she first arrived at Hogwarts, it didn't seem to extend to their daily dealings with each other. It only further convinced Hermione that this wasn't such a good idea.

She never saw Ron. She had no clue what he was up to, or where he went in the castle. Several times, she found herself outside of his room, staring at the door like it would open to some great treasure. But, she never got the nerve to knock. She had a feeling he wasn't there much anyway. She doubted that Harry had seen him either, although, she didn't ask. It was almost like they were three investigators trying to solve the same mystery, but not meeting in the middle to help each other. 

She called herself every kind of coward for letting Ron avoid her. She knew, she could corner him if she wanted, but she just couldn't seem to do it. Ron's very absence told her that he didn't want to talk to her, and that was enough to deter her, no matter how much it hurt.

Ron was doing a superb job of NOT dealing with the two people he had called best friend. He didn't feel the need, like Hermione did, to try to bridge the gap between them. Life was better alone, he'd decided. No one could hurt you that way. He was there to do a job, not socialize and that's the way he chose to keep it. It didn't matter that he would wake up in the middle of the night, hard and frustrated with images of Hermione swirling in his brain. The dreams would be so real, he almost felt as if he could reach out and touch her. That's why the bottle, which was full and sealed when he arrived, was now half full. He was proud of himself for not drinking himself sick, but hated the fact that he had to open it at all.

A part of him-a part he ignored-urged him to talk to Harry as well. But, his anger was still so large, so hot that he didn't trust himself. Not that he would have felt guilty for pounding on Harry for a bit. But, he didn't want to upset Dumbledore, or give Snape (who was not making things easy) any more ammunition as to WHY they were not the right people for the job. 

So, the four had carried on day to day, until it suddenly occurred to them, that it was September 1st. The day before the first day of term. They would all be expected to attend the feast and Sorting of the first years. They would be forced to face each other, whether they liked it or not.

Harry leaned casually against the door frame of the Muggle Studies classroom, watching Hermione as she bent over some parchment on her desk, quill scratching noisily as she wrote. Several books were laid open in front of her, reminding him of a time not so long ago. A smile formed on his lips as he watched, thinking that some things would never change. When he quietly cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, the quill stopped and she looked up, an annoyed scowl on her face from being interrupted. This familiar reaction made him smile turn into a grin.

"Oh, Harry. Hello." She said, her scowl turning into a smile of her own. She twirled the quill nervously in her fingers while he approached. He felt a stab of guilt at her not knowing how to act around him. He suddenly felt very sorry for the way he'd been avoiding her these last couple of weeks.

"What are you doing?" He asked, settling his hip against the edge of the desk and peering down at her work.

"Lesson plans. Term starts tomorrow, and I need to be prepared." She explained.

"Hermione. You've got the entire course planned out through Easter." He said, amusement evident in his voice as he leafed through the papers on her desk. She bristled a bit and her face took on a superior edge that he knew so well. 

"Unlike SOME people, I don't wait until the last minute to do things." She said with a sniff. She snatched the parchments out of his hand and moved them to the opposite side of the desk. That annoyed look was back and Harry could have kicked himself for putting it there.

"I wasn't criticizing, Hermione. Just thought it was funny that some things never change." Her face softened a bit at that, but didn't totally lose her annoyance.

"Well, all right." She mumbled, not able to come up with anything else. "Did you need something?" She saw the flash of sadness in his eyes but refused to be moved by it. He had set the boundaries and now he would have to deal with it.

"Yeah." He ran a hand over his hair, dislodging the ponytail and sending hair flowing into his face. He scowled when he heard Hermione giggle. "What's so funny?" He snapped as he tried to correct the damage.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that Ginny was right. You DO look like one of those men on Muggle romance novels." Despite himself, Harry felt a tinge of pleasure heat his face.

"She said that?" Hermione didn't even bother rolling her eyes.

"Don't, Harry." Was all she said, effectively dispelling the happiness that he had been feeling. The happiness he had no right to feel where Ginny was concerned. Hermione felt wretched for being the one to do it, but reality being what it was, she felt he needed a reminder.

"Right. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I want to meet tomorrow night, after the first day of class is over. All three of us. So we can compare notes on the students and give our impressions of them. Maybe we can pick out a few to keep our eyes on. This working separately isn't going to work with so many students roaming the halls after tonight." 

"All right. Did you tell Ron?" She had picked up her quill and bent her head over the parchment to scribble a note as he talked. The silence that followed her question gave her her answer. She looked back up at him to see his sheepish grin and nearly groaned out loud. "You want me to tell him." It wasn't a question.

"Well, I think it would be best, don't you? After our last conversation, I don't think that we'd be able to talk without bloodshed." He hurried to explain. It wasn't that he was afraid of Ron. Far from it. He just thought it best for them to communicate through Hermione as much as possible. For now.

Hermione had thrown down her quill once more and was gently rubbing the tension headache that was rapidly forming behind her eyes. She found herself suddenly transported back to fourth year, when Ron and Harry were at odds, and she was the only link between them. She'd hated it then, and she surely hated it now. But, maybe, after they spent the evening together, going over their observances of the students, they could work out some of the tension between them.

"Fine. But, I'm not going to do this all year. You two need to come to some sort of way to deal with each other that doesn't involve fists." She told him, the eyes she raised to him telling him she was serious. 

"Yes ma'am." He replied, offering her a cheeky grin. She gave an exasperated sigh and picked up her quill once again.

"I'll go talk to him after I'm done here." He could tell he was being dismissed and rose to leave.

"All right. I'll see you at the feast." He turned and started toward the door, pausing to look back at her before walking out. She was re-immersed in her lesson plans. He chuckled to himself as he walked out the door.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Ron stalked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, skin still dripping from his shower. He was in a dark mood, having just realized what day it was and that in less than twenty-four hours, he was expected to be a teacher. 

*Wonderful. * He thought irritably as he stalked around the room yanking clothes out of drawers and throwing them on the chair. He couldn't really say why he was so nervous about teaching. He'd faced werewolves, vampires, Voldemort and Deatheaters. Children couldn't be THAT scary. Then, a flash of the type of students Fred and George had been (not to mention himself and Harry) had gone through his mind, and he nearly decided to pack up to go home. Not that he wanted a class full of Hermione's and Percy's, either. Although, the thought of having a sea of Hermione's to gaze upon wasn't as unappealing a thought as originally intended. In fact, it caused a tightening in his stomach and a hardening of his nether regions while he imagined rows upon rows of sleek curls and cinnamon eyes staring back at him.

Better not think about that too often, or he'd embarrass himself for sure.

Well, he could always hope that they caught the troublemaker tonight at the feast, thereby ensuring that he would never have to set a foot in a classroom. Somehow, he didn't like his chances. Whoever was perpetrating the vandalism knew what they were doing and how to cover their tracks. Ron could only hope that the culprit wasn't quite so organized this year. Usually, with confidence came carelessness. He WOULD slip up, and Ron would be there to catch him when he did.

"Who is it?" He barked when a knock on the door broke him from his thoughts.

"Hermione." At the sound of her voice, a grin spread across his face. He'd avoided them for the last two weeks, not even admitting to himself that he'd hoped she'd seek him out.

"Hold on. I'm not dressed." He called back deliberately. He heard her gasped 'Oh' through the door and couldn't help the smirk that replaced his smile. Pulling on a pair of jeans (which he left the button undone) he walked to the door and pulled it open. Her eyes went as wide as saucers when she found herself presented with his bare chest.

"I-I thought you were going to get dressed." She stammered, her face turning red. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to avert her eyes from the wall of muscle and skin in front of her. Good heaven's, was her mouth really watering? The realization had her face turning into flames.

"The 'mportant parts are covered." He told her silkily. The laughter in his voice helped her to pull her gaze from his sculpted pecs and bring it to his eyes. She wasn't sure if that was much better. There was no mistaking the raw hunger in his blue orbs as they raked over her. She suddenly wished she'd worn something less attractive than the figure forming tan slacks and sleeveless pink blouse that had two buttons undone at the top. She had a feeling that he would still look at her like that if she had on a burlap sack. "Was there something you wanted?"

Surely it was her imagination that had that statement sounding like an invitation. Wasn't it?

"Uh, er . . . H-harry asked me to come by to tell you that he wants the three of us to meet tomorrow after the day's classes are done. So we can give our first impressions of the students." How she got this out she had no idea, since her mouth had gone from watering to dry as dust from the heated way he was staring at her. He had the look of a starving man gazing upon his first meal in weeks. And she was it.

"He couldn't come and tell me that himself?" Ron asked, bracing a hand against the door frame. It took Hermione a second to process his question, since the ripple of muscle under smooth skin caused coherent thought to take a vacation. She gave her head a quick shake to try to start up her brain again, but it was a little difficult when her eyes were level with his chest.

"H-he thought it best if I come, since there's less chance of you hitting me." She finally got out. Anger flared in her eyes when she realized just how much he was enjoying her predicament. His smirk was firmly in place as he gazed down at her. She had the irrational urge to pull out her wand and turn him into a toad (or something equally as disgusting) just to knock him down a peg or two.

"Well, I guess he's right about that." He agreed with a chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging some of the water still clinging to it. It ran in long, wet rivulets across his skin, drawing Hermione's eyes with it to the band of his jeans, where his hand had settled. 

*Oh lord* was all her mind could manage when the realization that he had just taken a shower hit her. Her mind happily provided an image of him with water sliding across his body. She found herself immediately jealous of the water. It was time for her to leave.

"Er, right then. I'll see you at the feast." She turned to leave, only to stop when his warm fingers wrapped gently around her bicep. She couldn't seem to stop the tremor that shot through her at his touch.

"What's the rush?" He asked. No, asked was too benign a word to describe the way his voice sounded in that moment. It seemed almost liquid and warm, cascading over her like a velvet waterfall. Every cell in her body reacted to it, turning her to face him when her mind was screaming at her to run away. Danger bells sounded in her head when she raised her eyes to see desire had darkened his to near black. She didn't resist when he pulled her closer, then inside his room. The quiet click of the door closing barely registered, nor did the feel of the wall against her back. Ron leaned into her, trapping her between him and it, as if he were afraid she would bolt.

Hermione felt like she was drowning in the sea of his eyes. The soft rush of his breath on her face, the hard length of his body pressed against hers, was making it difficult to think. That pesky voice in her mind was insistently telling her that she didn't want to do this. Not now, when so much still laid broken between them. But, her body seemed to have other ideas. Her fingers itched to slide into his hair and rediscover its texture. Her lips ached to capture his and see if they were still as soft and warm as they had been. Her skin cried out for his hands (those long fingers and calloused palms) to glide over its silkiness. Every inch of her wanted every inch of him. Consequences be damned.

Her lids fluttered shut when he raised a hand to trace a finger over her cheek. Her lips parted when that finger drew across them. Arousal curled hot in her stomach, making her blood throb, her very center yearn for him. She was screaming for him, even though she hadn't made a sound.

"Mione, look at me." Her eyes opened at the sound of his hoarse command, to find him no better off than she was. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. His skin was flushed with desire, his pupil's dilated with it. His finger, now joined by the others, still ran delicately over her skin. They had traveled down her throat to the exposed skin in the front of her blouse. The calloused pads of his fingers caused her flesh to burn, her heart to skip beats. She knew, that all he had to do was dip his head to kiss her, and she would be lost.

"Ron . . . " Hermione had no idea what she was going to say. Her inner voice was still nagging her to stop this, before it was too late. But nothing other than his name came out.

"Sh." His fingers came up to rest against her lips, enticing her not to speak. "Just let me look at you. It's been so long." His words were barely a whisper, but the longing of them shouted to her loud and clear. For some reason, the sound of it snapped her out of the euphoric haze she had been in. Ron let out a "What the . . . " In surprise when he found himself stumbling back from her unexpected shove.

"And whose fault is that, Ronald Weasley, that it's been so long? You pushed ME away. You don't get to take liberties now." She snapped, the eyes that had been glazed with desire not a second before, now shooting fire at him. The change from seductor to predator overcame him so fast that she had no chance to react when he stalked back over to her. She gave an unladylike squeak when his fingers-so gentle before-seized her in a vice grip, hauling her against him.

"You didn't have such a problem cozying up to Harry, now did you? What makes it so much easier to forgive him than me?" He growled, lifting her off her feet until she was eye level. Hermione, whose heart was playing an erratic tattoo against her chest at how dangerous he looked right then, said the first thing that came to her mind.

"He didn't break my heart, you stupid git!"

Her words rang like a crack shot through the room as Ron seemed to deflate before her eyes. Pain clouded his face before he set her down and turned away, but she refused to feel guilty for the truth. His shoulders were slumped as he walked away from her. His hands cut an angry path through his hair, while her words sunk in. He turned toward her, a hand outstretched, mouth open as if to say something. What, Hermione would never know.

With timing that only seemed to exist in movies and on television, a knock sounded at the door, followed by Ginny's voice.

"Ron? Ron! Open the door. I need to talk to you."

"Dammit!" Ron spat, advancing on the door as if it had personally offended him. He jerked it open and glared down at his sister. "WHAT!"

"Don't shout at me. If you hadn't been avoiding me, I wouldn't have had to hunt you down, now would I?" She countered, walking past him into the room. "Oh, Hermione. I didn't mean to interrupt." Ginny's face turned apologetic then angry once more at the sight of her friends face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I was just leaving." Hermione said, turning to escape.

"We're not finished." Ron said as Hermione hurried past him. She didn't even spare him a glance. He took a minute to watch her retreat before turning back to face his sister. She had that determined look on her face, telling him he wasn't going to like what she had to say. "I'm not in the mood for whatever it is you have on your mind, Ginny." He warned, leaving the door open in a not so subtle hint that she should leave. All she did was cross her arms over her chest and toss her hair defiantly.

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? If I waited for you to be in the mood for something, I'd be freezing in Hell right about now. What did you do to Hermione?" She demanded, her question making him scowl.

"That's none of your business." He snarled.

"Haven't you hurt her enough?" Ginny shot back.

"Good with the family loyalty there, Gin." He sneered, stomping over to the chair and grabbing his shirt. He pulled it on with jerky movements.

"If you weren't acting like such a selfish prat, I might show you some." 

"Didn't you have something you wanted to say?" Ron bit out through clenched teeth. Unintimidated, Ginny merely gave him a chilly smile.

"Yes, there is." She had finally decided that she was going to talk to Harry that night, after the feast. Now she just had to let Ron know she wouldn't tolerate any interference. She knew she could have kept it secret from him, but that was never the way to deal with Ron. If she laid it out for him, he would have no choice but to back off. She hoped. "I've decided that I'm going to talk to Harry. There's nothing you can do about, so don't think that you can start ordering me about. As you so eloquently put it a moment ago, it's none of your business." Ron's eyes narrowed as she talked, his anger practically spilling from his pores.

"Then why tell me?" His casual tone belied the fury flaring in his eyes.

"Because, brother dear, I just wanted to make sure that we understood each other. If you so much as breathe in Harry's direction, I will curse your parts so they shrivel up and fall off!" Ron would have laughed right in her face, if it hadn't been for the gleam in her eye that told him she was serious. That, of course, caused his temper to sky rocket.

"You think you're grown enough to take me on, little girl?" For the first time ever, Ginny felt a slice of fear in the face of her brother. He had gone so stiff, so cold that she suddenly realized she didn't know the man standing in front of her. But, she still refused to break down. 

"You're my brother, Ron. NOT my keeper. I'm a grown woman." She reminded him.

"Not grown enough if you're willing to go running back to Harry!" He shot back.

"What are you talking about? I just want to talk to him. He owes me an explanation, and I want it!" Ginny was practically shouting now. Her tiny hands were bunched into fists, which were planted on her hips as she faced her brother. Her eyes, so similar to Ron's, were shooting sparks. Her mouth was set in a grim line while she glared at him.

"You're trying to tell me that it's going to end there?" He asked, looking at her as if she had just escaped from a mental ward. "With just talking? That you won't fall for whatever line of bunk he hands you then fall willingly back into his arms? Please Ginny. I know you better than that."

"Oh, really? And how is that possible since you've been a phantom in my life for the last three years?" She had the satisfaction to see guilt flare across his face. "You don't know me at all if you think that I'm so naive, or weak, that I'll just go running back to him."

"Won't you? You've had it for him since you TEN, Gin. You haven't been out on more than a handful of dates since he left. There's been no one serious since-oh, what the hell is his name . . . Brian! And that only lasted three months." Ginny realized that Charlie had a big mouth. Since she barely saw Ron once a year, the eldest Weasley was the only way he could have found out about her dating habits. "You've been waiting for the great Harry Potter to come back for you. Don't deny it!" He ordered when she opened her mouth to do just that. "Guess what Ginny. He didn't. And he's not going to. The only reason he's here is to help Dumbledore. He'd been here how long before me and Hermione got here? And he didn't try to see you once? That seems pretty telling to me."

"Probably because you threatened him." She accused, hating the hot tears spilling down her cheeks, almost as much as she was hating her brother right then.

"You're right. I did." He admitted without shame. She was surprised to see the coldness drop from his face, leaving sadness in its wake. "But we both know, that if Harry wanted to see you, he would. Having to deal with me, be damned. He's not the same man he was." He was trying to be kind now. Ginny could see the intention of it in his face. His words were not kind, however, and she couldn't forgive him for forcing her to face the things she herself had been thinking. The need to lash out and hurt him as much as he had hurt her welled up inside of her.

"You're not the same man you were either, Ron. That man, I was proud to call brother. But, now, the man that you've become. So hard and unfeeling. You make me sick." The glare she sent him sliced through his heart, right on the trail of her words. He was struck speechless by the harshness of them. Triumphant that she had hit her mark, Ginny turned and left the room, leaving him standing there, the wounds in his heart reopened and bleeding.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Hermione stumbled into her room and managed to make it to her bed before she collapsed.

*Damn him. DAMN HIM! * She chanted in her head viciously. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to try to keep the tears at bay. She would NOT cry. She supposed she should have felt somewhat victorious at the knowledge that he still wanted her. But, lust wasn't love, and she was old enough to know the difference. She realized how easy it would be to fall back into bedd with him. Even now that she was safely back in her room, with Ron halfway across the castle, she could still feel the heat of promise in his eyes.

What if he didn't love her anymore? What if he had changed so much, he wasn't capable of it? That thought had her insides twisting painfully. Would she be willing to settle for that? Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. What if he didn't even want THAT? What if this was just a game to him? What if she was just going insane?

Somehow, she thought that last bit was true, no matter whether the rest was or not. Ron made her crazy. Period.

With a laugh that bordered on hysterical, and a loud sniff, she scrubbed her hands over her eyes. When she sat up, her gaze was drawn to a square of white on the floor by her door. A curious frown creased her forehead. For some reason, her heart slammed against her chest as she went to pick it up. Her hands were shaking when she turned it over to break the seal on the envelope. There had been no name on the front, but it seemed obvious that it was for her. She pulled the slip of parchment out of the envelope and turned it over to read the short message.

  
  


WELCOME BACK, HERMIONE.

  
  
  
  


Logically-and Hermione prided herself on being logical-there was no reason for fear to grip her throat so tight, she had to struggle to breathe. The words held no threat, no malice of any kind. It could have been from any one of the teachers that she hadn't seen yet.

Of course, she couldn't think of one that she hadn't. Not to mention, that if it HAD been a teacher, they surely would have signed it. And it would have been handwritten and delivered by an owl. Not typeset and shoved under her door. With her heart still beating hard against her ribs, Hermione shoved the note back in the envelope and hurried to her door. As expected, no one was there when she opened it. A cold chill ran down her spine at how quiet the halls were. She presumed that everyone was about, getting ready for the influx of students that would be upon them in a few short hours. But right now, the castle held an eery quiet that made her realize just how alone she was in this part of the castle. She knew the Hufflepuff dormitories were somewhere near by, but she couldn't be sure just where. She'd never had the occasion to go there, so, she only had a vague idea. Professor Sprout's room had to be close as well, but that seemed little comfort at the moment.

Closing the door and feeling foolish, Hermione threw the note on her dresser and started to collect her things so she could take a shower. No matter where she moved in the room, however, her eyes kept returning to where it lay, half propped up by a perfume bottle.

"Ridiculous!" She scolded herself, stomping over to it and putting it in the top drawer. *Just tell Harry and Ron about it if it's bothering you so much. * Her inner voice suggested. But the thought of the two of them looking at her like she'd gone daft didn't settle well. It wouldn't do for them to think that she was jumping at shadows.

"No, I won't be telling them." She told the empty room with a definitive nod. Then, forcing it out of her mind, she went to go get ready. The feast was only a few hours away.

  
  


~*TBC*~


	6. Chapter 5

*Chapter Five*

  
  
  
  


Gasps of wonderment filled the Great Hall as the first years followed Professor McGonogall into the room. Hermione had to smile at the wide-eyed looks the enchanted ceiling was getting. She remembered her first viewing of it and how she had sprouted off that the ceiling wasn't really the night sky blah, blah. It had filled her with as much wonder as the others, but she'd felt the need to hide her awe behind her knowledge. Why she had felt the need to do that, she wasn't sure. She supposed it had been easier to hide behind books and facts, rather than face the fact that she was frightened out of her mind. After all, it wasn't every day that you learned the stuff of fairytales was real.

While the first years got situated in the front of the room to wait for their turn with the Sorting Hat, Hermione had the opportunity to look around a bit. The Great Hall hadn't changed at all in the last seven years. Not that she really expected it to. Four long tables stretched out in front of the main table, the flags of each House floating high above them. The tables were empty of food at the moment, but once the sorting was over and announcements had been made, the platters and plates would overflow with everything you could ever possibly want to eat. The thought of the food had her briefly wondering how the house elves were doing. She also wondered if she'd be welcome in the kitchen, since her S.P.E.W. venture hadn't been received very well by the elves.

She was surprised to find that she was hungry after the emotionally stressed day that she'd had. Hermione could feel Ron's eyes on her from across the length of the table. She had felt them since she walked into the hall. She refused to look down at him, however. She was hurt and angry and more than a little frustrated. She just didn't know what to do about him. So, she ignored him. A plan that was made easier to execute by the fact that he was seated next to Snape and she was between Professor McGonogall and Harry. She knew instinctively that Ron would be less than pleased with the seating arrangements.

Serves him right! She decided. Anger had quickly replaced her confusion while she was in the bath. How dare he think that, after the way he'd treated her, that she would just fall back into bed with him? Despite the fact that the thought of doing just that caused a thrill to shoot up her spine, she was determined not to give in. She was in love with him, yes, but she had her pride. If they resumed their relationship, it would be on her terms. Which meant this time more would be involved than just hormones. She just had to remind him of what they had been to each other. The hard part, was deciding how to go about it. She also wasn't sure if she'd be able to penetrate the bitter and hard shell Ron had erected around himself. She didn't know why, but she was sure that there had to be SOMETHING left of the man she'd been in love with. She hoped she was right because she didn't think her heart could take another break.

"When I call your name, please come forward so we may sort you into your houses." Professor McGonogall's voice pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. Filing the puzzle of Ron away for later perusal, she leaned forward to watch the sorting.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Ron could think of about a thousand different things he'd rather be doing right now. He was angry, bored and as tense as a strung bow. There was no way that seated here-next to SNAPE of all people-watching the sorting and being actively ignored by Hermione, not to mention being constantly glared at by Ginny, was going to alleviate any of it. He was still stinging from his earlier encounters with both women and it had done nothing to improve his mood. 

So, here he was. Bored, pissed and sitting next to Snape. Could his night get any worse?

He knew he was tempting fate asking himself that. But, at the particular moment, he couldn't imagine a worse way to spend an evening. If he was honest with himself, he would have realized, that some of his ire had to do with the fact that a tiny part of him, thought that the girls had been right. He had no right to expect Hermione to fall into his bed, and he had no right to try and run Ginny's life. Especially since he hadn't really been in either of their lives for a very long time. He hadn't gone after Hermione when she'd left, despite his heart screaming for him to do so. And he had cut himself off from his family, only showing up at the odd holiday if he was around. 

Knowing it, and being rational about it was two very different things.

Ron stared glassily at the fresh faced children that were being sorted without seeing them. He heard the Hat shouting out the House name, and the applause that followed, but, it seemed distant. What he really wanted to do, was head back to his room, and finish off that bottle, so he could wake up in the morning walls firmly in place. It didn't do to care too much. He'd learned that the hard way.

Women, he though vehemently, Too much bloody trouble. Even as this thought was running through his mind, he leaned forward a bit and turned his eyes to Hermione. He was more than a little annoyed that she was ignoring him so well. Looking at her, now, he could almost think that what had happened between them in his room, hadn't transpired at all. He didn't have any idea how she could recover from it so easily. He was still twisted up in knots over it. But, there she sat, her curls smoothed into a bun at the nape of her neck, her glorious body hidden beneath a royal blue robe, her face a study of calm. What he wouldn't give to wipe that look off her face and have her begging for him.

This train of thought will get you no where. He decided. He didn't bother wondering why Hermione's rejection stung more than Ginny's words. Maybe because he thought he was right where Ginny was concerned. He knew she was angry with him, but, he knew they would work it out. Weasley's always did. It didn't stop what she said from hurting, but it did seem to make the ache a little less pronounced. Watching Hermione walk out the door, without looking back, however, had caused a panic to well up that he had no clue how to handle. 

Bugger. Ron thought with a sigh. Apparently, his inner turmoil and resulting fidgeting were annoying Snape. He caught sight of the Potions Professor glaring at him and turned to scowl back. He felt a zing of victory when Snape looked away first. He looked down at the table again, but this time, Ginny's slight attempts to get Harry's attention had caught his eye. He almost smirked at how oblivious the man seemed to be. He was staring straight at the last of the students getting sorted, fingers idly playing with a knife. Then, he realized, that Harry was ignoring the youngest Weasley as much as Hermione was ignoring him. A righteous fury rose up in his chest for his sister, in spite of his earlier warnings for Harry to do just that. He didn't like the pained expression that she wore, but when he saw anger flash across her face before she sat back with a huff, he had to smile. She was a tornado when set off, and he didn't like Harry's chances.

With a sigh, he sat back in his own chair as the sorting drew to a close. Professor McGonogall was putting the Sorting Hat and stool off to the side and walking to her seat. Once she was next to Hermione, Professor Dumbledore stood. A hush came over the students that had been chattering excitedly a second before.

"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I have a few brief announcements, then the feast will begin. Firstly, the first years should note that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to everyone." Ron, Hermione and Harry had a distinct feeling that the Headmaster was speaking to them in particular. "No magic is to be used in the halls between classes. The prefects will advise you to the rest of the rules. My second announcement concerns the newest additions to our teaching staff. You're new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, is Mr. Ronald Weasley." A burst of polite applause rang out, interspersed with the older students telling the new student how that position was cursed. "Ms. Hermione Granger will be taking over the Muggle Studies course. "And -" He pause for the next smatter of applause to cease. "The new Flight Professor and Quidditch coach is Mr. Harry Potter." You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes riveted to the quiet man none of them had taken notice of before. Their gazes all sought out and landed on the scar that while faded with time, was still very visibly on his forehead. Then, wild applause and screaming erupted throughout out the hall. 

Ron looked down at Harry to see the slightly strained smile he flashed to the sea of over excited children. In the years since he had left Hogwarts, his fame had only grown, much to his bemusement. He'd never wanted all the attention that came from being The-Boy-Who-Lived. But he had found a way to live with it.

It was a good five minutes before the noise finally settled down and Dumbledore was able to speak again. His eyes twinkled merrily as he looked out at the students who were staring back at him expectantly.

"Let the feast begin." Almost as soon as the last word fell past his lips, the plates started to fill with every wonderful treat imaginable. Amazing smells permeated the air, followed by the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of the students. Then, it was a free- for-all. Food started disappearing off the platters as fast as hands could grab it. Satisfied that all was well, Dumbledore sat down and the teachers began to eat as well.

For a time, the only thing heard in the Hall was the sounds of eating with occasional whispering. Forks hitting plates, glasses being set down on tables and children's voices filling the air. Everything froze the second the first, terrified scream cut through the dinner noise. The second scream had Hermione, Ron, and Harry launching over the table and flying into the throngs of students that were screaming and scrambling away from tables, upsetting plates, and knocking over the benches in their haste. 

At first, the three couldn't see what was causing the riot. Then, something-or rather, several somthings-scampered across Hermione's feet. She looked down and promptly screamed, much to her embarrassment. Cockroaches, the size of rats, were weaving their way through the feet that were trying to stomp them and that wasn't all. After Hermione kicked away the creatures crawling over her feet, she looked around in horror to see that the elegant feast had been replaced. Snake's now writhed and slithered off the gold platters where the mounds of turkey had been. Beetles surged out of the fruit bowls in a flow of shiny black. Mice scurried out of the pitchers, and-much to Ron's displeasure-spiders crawled from the tart trays. 

The three former friends paused long enough to glance at each other, deciding with their eyes who would go in which direction. Then, moving as if they had never been apart, the three jumped into the fray. Ron let out a war whoop as he started happily zapping spiders, mindful of the students still desperate to get away. Most of them had managed to make it out, before the doors became so clogged with bodies, no one would get anywhere. Harry took on the snakes-obvious choice, since he was a parselmouth-trying to convince them that biting the children that had stepped on them in their panic was not a good idea. Then, he transported them out of the hall, hopefully to the forest. He couldn't be sure, since he really didn't have time to aim correctly. Hermione was tending with the roaches and beetles. They could hear Dumbledore behind them, alternating between helping with the pests scrambling around the room, and trying to calm the students before anyone got hurt. He finally had to enlarge the doors, so the rest of the students could leave without injury. Snape had jumped up and was dealing with the mice, throwing some control spell at them and marching them out of the room and through the main doors outside. The other professors were on the floor as well, transporting the vermin out through the windows. 

Hermione had a chance to catch a glimpse of Ron. He seemed to have discarded the use of his wand, and was stepping on the spiders, his face full of malicious glee. He had a bad moment, when a snake-its mouth open wide, fangs glistening-advanced on him. But then Harry was there, the soft hiss of his voice begging off the snake and with a wave of his wand, the snake disappeared. Hermione had to smile at the look on Ron's face, before he begrudgingly thanked Harry. Then he was back to stomping spiders and Harry was off to round up the last of the snakes. 

A grin split Ginny's face as she helped Hermione round up the bugs. Even with the gravity of the situation, she was having the time of her life. Since she worked in the library, it wasn't too often that she actually got to prove that she was a witch. Not for the first time she wondered if she'd made the right choice in her career.

Working togethe,r Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the rest of the teaching staff managed to empty the Great Hall of the creatures. When they were done, silence descended on them, as they realized the prankster had struck again.

"First day back. He isn't wasting time." Ron said to no one in particular. 

"Yes, and it seems that he slipped right past the three that are here to save us." Snape sneered. Ron, Harry and Hermione each shot the man a glare, but didn't respond. 

"Severus, please. The Head's of the houses should go check on their students. Make sure that those that need to see Madame Pomfrey do so. The rest of us shall make sure that there are no more unwanted guests in the castle. Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter, we leave you to investigate." Dumbledore said, his voice now weary. They all noticed how shaken the man was, and even Snape decided not to argue. One by one, the teachers left, leaving the three standing in the middle of the ravaged Great Hall. Ginny gave them each one last glance before she left, worry evident on her face.

"As of right now," Harry started, staring after her. "We work together. The past is behind us, and we can't let it cloud what we came here to do." He then turned to look at them, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. "Those snakes were poisonous. Whoever is doing this, is not playing anymore. Together we can find him, and make him pay. Separate, we are sitting ducks." He waved his empty hand around the over turned tables, upset benches, and broken dishes. "We make peace, now." 

Hermione and Ron stared at him, then glanced at each other. They knew he was right. Hermione was more than willing, but Ron had a war waging inside of him. Longing to recapture the friendship of his youth raged against resentment he still felt. Blue eyes clashed with green when he looked up at Harry. Hermione unconsciously held her breath, waiting for them to come to blows or make a pact.

"When this is over," Ron started. "You and I WILL have it out." Harry seemed to consider this for a second, before giving a jerky nod. "Then, peace it is." The red head said with a nod of his own. Hermione was torn between happiness that-for a brief time at least-things wouldn't be so strained anymore, and wanting to hex them both for being such typical men. 

"Hermione?" Harry asked her. She glanced between the two, thinking that this was the first step in repairing the damage that had been done.

"Very well." How she managed to keep all emotion out of her voice she would never know. 

"All right then, we should search the castle, question the house elves and see what we can find out. We'll meet in my room when we're done. Say, two hours?" This was met with silent nods of agreement. 

"All right, guess I'll head down to the kitchen's again, although, all those house elves want to do is feed me instead of giving me answers. Maybe you should go, Hermione? I'm sure they'd LOVE to see you again." Ron teased, striding toward the door. Hermione's fists came up to plant on her hips as she glared after him.

"Honestly!" She huffed, before storming out after him. That left Harry, shaking his head and trying to fight the smile that threatened to curl his lip. He stifled a groan when he saw that Mr. Filch was on his way toward the Great Hall, a bucket and mop clasped in his hands, scowl firmly in place. Mrs. Norris eye- balled Harry as she walked by, and he had to resist the urge to kick her. In all his days, no animal had ever wrung that reaction out of him. 

"Should have known you'd be about with something like this going on." The custodian growled, glaring at Harry.

"Nice to see you again, too, Mr. Filch. We must do this again sometime." He then left quickly, not wanting to have to talk to the man for longer than necessary. Might as well start with the Slytherin's. He thought, trotting down the stairs to the dungeons. He was unaware of the tiny figure he passed on the way down and the hateful way it stared after him.

  
  


~*TBC*~


	7. Chapter 6

*Chapter Six*

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two hours later found the three of them in Harry's room, no closer to finding the culprit than before. The house elves had been horrified when Ron told them what had happened to their dinner. By the time he left, his arms laden with food that did not scurry or hiss, they had assured him that they would keep their eyes and ears open for anything strange. Judging by the SIZE of their eyes and ears, Ron figured they should know everything that went on in the castle already.

Harry had struck out with the Slytherins as well. Snape had met him at the portrait door, letting him know in no uncertain terms, that HE would question the students in his House. That left Harry with little more to do than to return to the Great Hall and see if Filch had found anything while cleaning. His questions received only one- word answers that didn't tell him anything. He'd then searched the Hall himself, under the watchful eye of Mrs. Norris. Peeves had put in an appearance, blowing raspberries every time Harry asked him a question. By the time he got back to his room, he was in a fairly foul mood.

Hermione had taken on the task of questioning the staff that hadn't been present at dinner. By the time she had climbed the ladder leading up to Madame Trelawney's room, she was not in the mood for one of the Professor's 'predictions'. By the third time she'd heard she was going to die a horribly painful death, she was ready to rip her hair out. Instead, she managed to calmly thank Madame for her insight and left without cursing the woman. That, in Hermione's opinion, was something to be proud of.

When the three met at Harry's door, their moods were somber. No one spoke as they filed inside and sat down. Twenty minutes later, they were still silent, each eating some of the food Ron had brought with him.

"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way." Ron said, finally breaking the silence. His long frame was draped in a chair, his black robe hanging open to show his jeans and white button-down shirt. He was thoughtfully chewing on an apple, eyes unfocused as he worked out his theory.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked from his sprawled position on the bed. 

"Well, that little stunt at dinner was very elaborate. Much more complex and hard to coordinate than blowing out some windows or controlling a bludger."

"You don't think it's just one student?" Hermione asked. She was curled up in the overstuffed chair by the window, eating some grapes.

"I'm beginning to think it's not a student at all." Ron turned his head to look at them and waited for his words to sink in.

"Surely you're not suggesting that it's one of the Professors?" Hermione gasped, shocked.

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Ron shot back. "But, no. I don't think so. We're the only teacher's that haven't been here for years. Besides Ginny, that is."

"What are you getting at?" Harry asked, sitting up to look at him, his eyes narrowed. The two men stared at each other, as if communicating silently.

"I think you know." Ron said after a minute. And, indeed, it did look like Harry knew. Which irritated Hermione to no end, because she hated feeling left out.

"Would one of you care to let me in on the little secret?" She asked with a huff. Ron flashed her an infuriating grin, leaned forward, and tossed his apple core in the trash.

"Think about it, Mione. Whoever is doing this, managed to materialize countless insects, rodents, and snakes into the Great Hall. Now, tell me, when we were 7th years, could you have done that? Even if you had mine and Harry's help?" He asked her. She took a minute to think back before answering. Could she have? Could the three of them? No, she didn't think so. Even with the extra training they'd received to deal with Voldemort.

"No, I don't. Not that many of them anyway." She admitted.

"Exactly! So, unless it's some form of conspiracy involving the entire student body, I think we need to look a little higher up on the food chain, so to speak. Who has a grudge against the school, or Dumbledore himself. That sort of thing."

"But, that leads us back to how he or she is doing it? How are they getting into the school? Why attack the students and not Dumbledore directly?" Harry asked. He looked more like he was thinking out loud, then actually confused.

"What's the best way to get the school shut down?" Ron asked them.

"Put the students in danger." Hermione answered quickly.

"Right. Put the students in danger, then parents start to get twitchy and start complaining to the Governors. Dumbledore looks like a fool for not being able to catch whose doing it. . ."

"He gets removed. Disgraced." Harry finished, looking slightly impressed. "If the pranks stop, it was a deliberate attack against Dumbledore. If they don't. . ."

"It was against the school." Hermione added.

"The trick is going to be, catching the person before it gets that far." Ron concluded, sitting back in his chair, a smug smile on his face.

"But, if you don't think it's a student or a professor, than who?" Hermione asked.

"I never said I was completely sure it wasn't a student. At least not a REAL student." Ron found he was faced with two confused expressions. He heaved a sigh, wondering how it was HE that was always considered the dim one, and ran a hand through his hair. "Polyjuice potion ring a bell?" Suddenly, it was like light bulbs went off over Harry and Hermione's heads "Crouch impersonated Mad Eye Moody for MONTHS without anyone the wiser. Hell, if it weren't for Voldemort's little Welcome Home party, he may have never been discovered. You don't think he was the only person capable of doing that, are you?"

Harry gave an involuntary shudder at the mention of his worst year at Hogwarts but quickly shook it off.

"Spell it out, Ron. Who do you think is here?" Harry demanded, ignoring the way his heart started thudding against his chest. Ron frowned, his brows drawing together with it.

"Tell you the truth, I'm not sure. But, don't you think it's strange that Dumbledore would ask us to come here? You-a bounty hunter that specializes in Deatheaters? Me, an Auror with the same credentials, both of us with an unprecedented success record. And Hermione, who's head of security at a museum FULL of artifacts Voldemort's followers would love to get their hands on. Why get us here, to deal with a STUDENT. Doesn't that strike you as a little extreme?"

Put in those particular terms, yes, it did.

"But, Dumbledore had no way of knowing that I would contact either of you." Harry protested. The look Ron sent him clearly stated that the red head was doubting his mental stability.

"To use your words, it's Dumbledore, Harry. Of course he knew. And who can say, that if you HADN'T contacted us, that he wouldn't have himself."

"So," Hermione interrupted, her mind racing with the possible next steps they should take. "We need a list of Deatheaters still at large and try to track their last known whereabouts."

"I'll owl my supervisor in the morning, for an updated list." Ron said. "Meanwhile, we interview the staff again. Find out if there were any students that seemed to have changed last year."

"But, Ron. We've already DONE that." Hermione reminded him.

"I KNOW Hermione. But, we have to keep it up until someone remembers something. It might have been a subtle change. Something almost unnoticeable, but, it HAS to be there. We just keep digging until we find it."

"All right. I think that's enough for tonight. I still want to meet tomorrow. It's getting late and finding a needle in a haystack isn't the only job we have here." Harry said, pushing to his feet and stretching stiff muscles. 

"Ugh. Don't remind me." Ron said with a groan. 

"Oh, what's the matter, Ron? Scared of a few children?" Hermione teased, standing and stretching herself. Ron took a moment to enjoy the view before standing as well.

"Fear has nothing to do with it. Just don't want to spoil them for whatever mediocre teacher they get next year, is all." Hermione laughed in his face, making him scowl. Harry watched them, amused and wondering how it was possible the three of them could go from barely being able to be in the same room, to the almost easy alliance they had now. He decided to file it next to 'Women' on his list of Mysteries of the Universe, and interrupted them before they really got going.

"Tomorrow night, after dinner then?"

"That's fine by me." Hermione said, stifling a yawn. Inexplicably, the note she'd managed to push from her mind since she took her bath, rose up in her memory. Without thinking, she opened her mouth to tell them about it, then quickly shut it again. Now, the note seemed silly and not worth mentioning at all. She didn't want to admit that she had been startled by a welcome back note.

"Right then. Til tomorrow." Ron said, turning to leave.

"Good night, Harry." Hermione said, hesitating as her inner voice nagged her to tell. Offering him a smile instead, she turned and followed Ron.

"Goodnight." He called after them as the door swung shut with a quiet click. Harry felt almost lighthearted as he got ready for bed. He could almost imagine that this had been years ago and they had just been brainstorming their latest adventure. It felt good.

He had just emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms, when a soft knock sounded on his door. Thinking it was Ron or Hermione, he didn't bother pulling on a shirt before opening the door. His eyes widened and his breath hitched in his chest when he saw who was there.

"Ginny?!"

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


"You don't have to walk me back to my room, Ron. I'm a big girl." Hermione said as Ron walked with her down the hall.

"I noticed." Ron replied with a grin.

"Is that all you think about?" She snapped before she could stop herself. She felt her cheeks start to flame and kept her eyes trained on the hall in front of them. His deep chuckle made her bristle and shiver at the same time.

"It is when I'm around you." He told her unashamedly. Their arms brushed with each step from how close he was walking next to her, the touch setting darts of electricity up her skin. She was starting to consider her body quite the traitor lately.

"Well, get over it." He chuckled again, the sound making her temper spike. "And just WHAT is so amusing?"

"You." He said simply. She shot him a glare out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm so glad I can entertain you." She retorted primly.

"C'mon, Mione. Don't be like that."

"Like what, exactly? And don't call me Mione." She hadn't meant to sound so harsh. Not to mention he'd been calling her Mione since fifth year. What was the point of objecting now? The slice of pain that flashed in his eyes lanced through her as well.

"What I mean, Hermione, is, I thought we called a truce until this is over." He reached out and drew her to a stop, his eyes staring into hers. Her face softened and she gave a frustrated little eye roll.

"That may be, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to tolerate your innuendos." She told him. He flashed a wicked grin before reaching up and tugging on a curl that had worked its way loose from her bun.

"What will it take for you to tolerate them?" She was sure that she had imagined the look of hope that flared in the blue of his eyes. She stared back at him, her heart pounding in her chest and thought about her answer.

"I think you know." She finally decided on. She watched his eyes narrow then widen when her meaning became clear. She then gave him a feline smile and turned on her heel to start down the hall by herself, leaving him to watch her, his mind racing.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  
  
  


"Finally. I thought they'd never leave." Ginny huffed, walking passed the still stunned Harry to stop in the center of his room. She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest, to see him still standing at the door, staring at her gaped mouthed, with the door still held open. "Hello, Harry."

"Ginny?" 

"I think we both know what my name is. Don't think you need to keep repeating it." She said flippantly, tossing her hair. She was amazed with the calmness of her voice, when her heart was stampeding in her chest. He didn't look any better than she felt, and she felt a surge of victory with that.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, after his brain finally wrapped around the thought that she was really standing in his room.

"Why don't you close the door and I'll tell you?" She shot back, arching a brow. He seemed to realize that he was still holding onto the door, his knuckles turning white with the force he was gripping it with. 

"Not so sure that's a good idea." He replied, swinging it shut. He had a feeling, as the door clicked shut, that he was in serious danger of his parts being removed in the most painful way possible.

"Oh, don't worry, Harry. I promise not to hurt you." A sweet smile spread across her face, and Harry could have sworn that he heard her whisper "Much."

"Well, um, what can I do for you?" He asked, trying desperately to hold onto his calm. Several things were winging around in his head, none of them good. He was sure that this was going to be the most difficult conversation he'd ever had. Not to mention what would happen if Ron found out that his sister was in Harry's room in the middle of the night. They had just called a truce, and it all hung in the balance if he couldn't get her out of here. Quickly.

"Isn't that an interesting question?" She asked thoughtfully. "So formal. Definitely not the type of question former lovers would ask each other, don't you think?" Her tone had remained mild, but there was no mistaking the sparks shooting from the blue gaze she had trained on him. 

"Ginny. . ." Harry started, raising a hand towards her. He dropped it with a sigh, then leaned back against the door. His eyes were bright and pain filled as he stared at her. She refused to be moved by it.

"No, really. I mean, how can two people go from being so totally and ridiculously in love, to no better than strangers? I'd ask Hermione and Ron, since they seem to be in the same predicament, but since they don't seem to have figured it out yet, I don't think I will. So, maybe you can tell me, Harry. How does it happen that one second, you think you have everything, and that nothing could ever tear you apart, to the next, and you have nothing?" No anger laced her words as she spoke, just a deep confusion that seemed to seep into the air.

"It's complicated." Was all he could offer.

"Oh, well. That's good. Because I would be extremely annoyed if it was easy." Sarcasm dripped from each syllable, making Harry flinch.

"I don't know what you want." He told her, his face full of anguish. Astonishment replaced the calm facade she'd been projecting for a brief second before her anger ripped through.

"You don't know what I want?! Are you seriously that daft? Well, you must have been, I suppose, to walk away from your life, from ME, without so much as glance back at the destruction you left behind."

"I couldn't stay, Ginny!" Harry snapped, pushing away from the door and advancing on her. She stood her ground, her entire body rigid with all her bottled up pain and fury.

"WHY!?"

"Because I was going to kill them. All of them. They killed Sirius. They were waiting for him when he apparated home. He never even had a chance to defend himself. They had to pay and I didn't want you touched by that!" He yelled, glaring down at her.

"You don't think I was? Every time a Deatheater was reported dead, you think that I didn't know it was you? Do you think I'm so naive? You don't think that I felt Sirius' death just as much as you? If only for you, I felt it. We were so close, Harry. How could I not?"

"It's not the same!" He cried, frustrated.

"Are my parents and Percy's deaths the same?" The look that crossed his face at her quiet question was pure desolation. He raised a hand to touch her face, to wipe away the stray tear that slipped from her eyes, but she flinched away. "Just KNOWING you, puts me in danger. Being related to RON puts me in danger. There was no way for me not to be touched by it. You left, and my parents and brother still died. So tell me, Harry. Did it do any good? Cause I don't see how it did. If you'd been here. . ."

"What, Ginny? What? If I'd been here, do you think they'd be any less dead?" His brows were furrowed together with the combined anger and frustration he was feeling. 

"NO! But we might not all be so broken! Hermione and Ron might not have imploded. You wouldn't be at each other's throats now. If you had stayed and trusted the relationships that had gotten us through a war, we might still be whole. Leaving didn't affect just me. It affected every life you've ever touched. And not for the better, I can tell you." She turned away from him then to stalk to the window and stare out at the moon drenched lawn. "We stood by you, always. Why did you think we wouldn't continue to do so?" 

Harry had no answer for her. No answer that wouldn't ring as hollow to her as it did to him, that is. He looked at her, really noticing for the first time that she wasn't the young girl of sixteen he had left behind. The moonlight spilled in the window, highlighting the deep red of her hair, the pale curve of her cheek, giving her an almost ethereal air. She took his breath away when he was seventeen. It seemed she still had that power. Her slim shoulders were set in a rigid line as the silence stretched out between them, filled with years of accusations and resentment.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I never wanted to hurt you." He finally said, his voice defeated. 

"But you did, Harry." Ginny turned her head to look at him then, her wide, blue eyes filled with tears, her voice shaking with them. "More than you'll ever be able to understand." 

All Harry wanted to do was gather her up and beg her to forgive him, but her stance was clearly shouting 'stay away'. So, he stood, helplessly in the middle of the room, his eyes begging her for him. She walked passed him then, and left, unable to bear seeing those pain filled green orbs of his anymore. No matter what she told Ron, she knew it wouldn't take much for her to forgive him. Harry let her leave, guilt forcing him to. 

"Don't be so sure." He told the closed door, feeling his heart shatter anew in his chest.

  
  


~*TBC*~

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 7

*Chapter Seven*

  
  
  


The next day, the students that weren't still in the infirmary, got up and dressed, eager to start their day. None were as eager as the first year group heading out to the field. Whispers about what happened the night before interspersed with speculation as to why Harry Potter was now teaching at Hogwarts swirled around them, mingling together. 

"I heard he went crazy after graduation." A Gryffindor boy by the name of Lance Hardwick, offered in a superior voice. The others around him gasped at the declaration.

"Well, I heard he ran off after his godfather was killed and started murdering people. He claimed they were Deatheaters, but these people had no ties to You-Know-Who whatsoever. Plum off his rocker, that one." A tall, long-faced Slytherin girl shot out.

"Oh, come one Lilah. Harry Potter, a murderer? Don't be daft." Another girl, this one a Gryffindor, said with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Shows what you know, Rebecca. I heard it from my father, who works in the Ministry. They've been trying to catch him for months. Dumbledore took up for him and gave him the job, AGAINST the Ministry's wishes, might I add," Lilah said with a haughty air. 

"You don't know what you're talking about." Rebecca insisted. The group had come upon two, neat rows of broomsticks lined on the grass, their bristles pointed away from each other. There was no sign of their Flying teacher, however.

"Oh, wonderful. Seems the Great Harry Potter can't be bothered to be at his own class on time," a rather short, pale skinned Slytherin boy shot out, eliciting laugher from his fellow house members and scowls from the Gryffindor's. Lance took a step forward and opened his mouth as if to say something, only to be cut off by the deep, commanding voice that reached them across the field.

"Please choose a broomstick and stand next to it," All heads turned in the direction it came from. Some of the girls gasped at the striking figure striding purposefully toward them across the grass, his black robes flowing behind him. The boys scowled at the way the girls were reacting, but a touch of awe was evident on each of their faces the closer he came. They scrambled to do as he ordered and quickly formed two lines.

Harry-who was not in the most pleasant of moods after his conversation with Ginny and the lack of sleep it caused- strode quickly between them. When he reached the head of the lines, he turned smoothly on his heel. Hands on his hips, his eyes touched each student in turn.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson."

  


~*~*~

  


Ronald Weasley didn't consider himself a coward. However, there was no mistaking the cold sweat that trickled between his shoulders blades, or that the cause of it was the sound of students outside his office door. He figured, by the excited way their voices penetrated the wood, that they were discussing the events of the night before. He could imagine the theories they were tossing around, or the gossip that would undoubtedly be spread.

Ron couldn't think of anything he wanted to do more than walk out the door. He was an Auror, not a teacher. The idea of facing several groups of students during the day terrified him so badly, he'd woken up in the middle of the night with his heart thudding erratically against his chest. He'd been so shaken, that he had finally broken down and finished the whiskey just to try to get back to sleep. Unfortunately, he hadn't slept long enough to evade the headache throbbing behind his eyes. It was a good thing that it had been the only bottle he'd brought with him. He would have to go into Hogsmeade if he wanted another, but there was too much of a chance there would be talk, and he couldn't risk them thinking the rumors of him being a drunk were true. 

So, he had no choice now but to just take a deep breath and go face them. Whether he wanted to or not.

Come on, Ron. They're just kids, he told himself. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and walked to the door. Silence fell over the room as all eyes turned to see their new teacher walking down the stairs from his office. Eyes widened at the pure size of him. They'd all heard of Ronald Weasley. He'd played and important part in the fall of You-Know-Who. His career as an Auror was legendary, and he had only been one for a few, short years. There was something about him, that seemed larger than life, and it wasn't his height. 

They were surprised to see that where he was dressed in robes, you could see that he was wearing jeans beneath it. When he stopped by his desk, they could see the robes hanging open and the Chudley's Cannons t-shirt he had on. Dragon hide boots completed the extremely un-teacher like appearance, tearing the students between awe and amusement. 

Ron looked over the sea of children and swallowed hard against urge to lose the contents of his stomach. 

"Good morning, welcome to Dark Arts. I'm Professor Weasley," he started, pausing to ponder how odd that sounded. "So, shall we get on with this then?" he mumbled half to himself. "Right, then. Let's go around the room, so you can introduce yourselves, then we'll get started," he decided. He looked at the girl with long, curly black hair sitting to his right and nodded. 

"Er, I'm Patricia Clark," she practically whispered. Ron's eyes immediately went to the boy sitting next to her. 

"Martin Sykes." And so it went, until the last person called out their name, and Ron suddenly found that he had exactly 55 minutes left until the bell rang. Bugger.

"Alright, then. Pull out your books, turn to the first page, and start reading. If there are any questions, just raise your hand." Seemed good enough to him. Feeling rather cheerful that he had figured out how to teach, and not actually have to do so, he settled himself at his desk amongst the rustle of pages and picked up his own book. Unfortunately, he only managed to read three paragraphs before deciding whoever had written the book was a moron.

"What a load of bunk!" he exclaimed, throwing the heavy text back on his desk with a thud. The entire class jumped at the unexpected noise. "Let's rethink this. I'm an Auror, and I can tell you that whoever wrote this wouldn't know the difference between a doppelganger and his own arse." A smattering of shocked giggles interrupted him briefly. "So, toss the books, grab your quills, and listen carefully."

And, just like that, as he stared out at the children eagerly hanging on his every word, Ron decided that maybe teaching wasn't so bad after all. 

  


~*~*~

  


Hermione was not in a foul mood or hung over as she walked into her first morning class. She never even would have considered being anything other than the utmost professional. She was as eager to start her day teaching as she was to find the prankster. She looked at teaching as an opportunity NOT to get teased because she knew so much, and didn't mind sharing it.

She was the epitome of cool calm when she reached her desk and turned to face her class. The students saw a young woman, dressed in a simple, royal blue robe, with her hair twisted into a sleek braid. She smiled warmly at them before she started to speak.

"Good morning class. As you know, I'm Professor Granger, and this is Muggle Studies. This year, we will learn a great deal about Muggles, and since I have Muggles for parents, I can assure you that I will have plenty to share. We will learn all about their customs, history, dress and culture. Notes are required, as I will deal with a lot that is not in the text books. Ask any questions you like, as long as it pertains to the lesson. I will give quizzes weekly, and a test once a month." She ignored the groans that filled the air. No doubt quite a few of them felt that Muggle Studies had been a sure fire high mark. Well, she planned to make them see that there was a lot more to the non-magic world then they first thought. "Now, please open your texts to chapter three. Ms. Parnell, will you start reading?" 

The third year Hufflepuff jumped slightly, surprised that Hermione had known her name already. As ever, Hermione liked to be prepared, so she had assigned seats, and memorized the names of everyone she put in those seats. 

"Yes, Professor." She said, clearing her throat. "Chapter Three-Muggle vehicles. Motor vehicles, also called cars were invented in the early 20th century by. . ." The other students dutifully read along in their own books. Every now and then, Hermione would indicate that another student should pick up, as well as ask if there were any questions. She was pleased to find that the questions asked were intelligent and thought out, and not in the least bit immature. Now, if the rest of her classes went as well as this, she was sure that her first day would be a success.

When the bell rang to signal the end of session, she called out the homework over the flurry of papers rustling and feet shuffling.

"I want a one parchment essay on what we just read by Monday. Good day."

"Good day, Professor." They murmured in return, waiting to groan about the homework until they were safely out of class. Hermione felt a jolt of pride at how well it had gone, and moved around her desk to get some papers she would need for the next class. She pulled up short when she saw the envelope in the middle of her desk. 

Was that there before? She asked herself, reaching out for it. She couldn't be sure, but she didn't think so. Her hand didn't shake this time as she reached for it. Instead, annoyance furrowed her brow and made her frown. She quickly ripped it open and pulled out the half sheet of parchment, her eyes sliding over the single sentence written in the middle.

Not bad for a mudblood.

  


Anger replaced her annoyance and she ripped the parchment into tiny pieces before she could stop herself. She hadn't heard that term since she'd left Hogwarts. Or, more importantly, since the last time she saw Draco Malfoy, and that hadn't been since sixth year. His father had been outed as a Deatheater by then, plunging the youngest Malfoy into hiding. Nobody had heard from him since. There was some talk that he had joined his father at Voldemort's side, but no one could confirm it. It had appeared that Malfoy had just disappeared.

She could remember the last time she had seen him as clear as day. She had just taken her final round of the third floor, and was heading back to the Gryffindor common room to meet Ron before going to bed. Malfoy had been leaning against one of the statues, his cold, blue eyes trained on her. Neither spoke as she tried to maneuver around him, their eyes meeting briefly when he stepped in her way.

"Move, Malfoy," she'd demanded, her voice as cold as his eyes.

"What's the rush, Granger? Running back to your beggar boyfriend for a snog before bed?" he'd sneered, raking those evil eyes over her. She had barely managed to suppress the shiver of revulsion that raced up her spine as he did so. It hadn't been the first time he'd looked at her that way. It made her sick each time she saw the look of lust burning in his gaze. It seemed Draco Malfoy had no problem wanting to shag a mudblood. He just didn't want to go to school with them. It was that hypocrisy that annoyed Hermione more than anything.

"That's none of your business. Move, or I'll report you." She threatened, arching a brow and giving him her best haughty look. 

"What? Little Miss Mudblood is too good to associate with me? That's rich. You should be kissing my balls in gratitude that you're still here." 

Hermione's face twisted up in disgust at his vulgar language and at how he'd managed to press close to her without her noticing. She took a step back and managed to stare down her nose at him, despite his height advantage.

"You're vile." She informed him primly and moved again to go around him. An involuntary cry ripped from her throat when his thin, vice like fingers clutched around her arm.

"Watch your mouth." He hissed, his voice low and menacing. Hermione fought against the fear that was trying claw its way up her throat and jerked hard on her arm.

"Let her go, Malfoy." Relief flowed liquidly through her at the sound of Ron's voice behind them. She turned her head to see him standing with legs spread apart, arms crossed over his chest, fire flashing from his eyes. 

"What are you going to do if I don't, Weasel?" The grin that spread over the redhead's face sent a shiver of a different kind down Hermione's spine.

"I was hoping you'd say that." The speed with which Ron moved shocked even her. Before either saw it coming, Draco had been ripped away from her, his face bloodied from where Ron's fist had made contact. She stood, staring dumbstruck as the two boys ripped into each other, six years of pent up hate coming to a head right there. She knew that there was something that she should be doing. She was a prefect. She shouldn't be standing there watching them fight. She should be trying to stop it. But the sheer ferocity of it stunned her into stillness. 

"MR. WEASLEY, MR. MALFOY! STOP THIS INSTANT!" Professor McGonogall's voice echoed loudly through the corridor, making Hermione's head jerk in that direction. The Transfiguration Professor looked as furious as Hermione had ever seen her. The boys didn't seem to hear her, though. Ron had Draco pinned on the ground and was gleefully sending his fist into the other boys face, repeatedly. The professor scowled and pulled her wand from the folds of her robes. She pointed it at the pair, and with a whispered word, sent them flying in different directions. Ron landed, stunned, against the wall near Hermione, while Draco landed across the hall by the windows. He didn't move once he landed.

"What, may I ask, is going on here? And why, Ms. Granger, were you just watching?" She asked once they were safely separated from each other.

"I'm sorry, Professor. It all happened so fast. . ."

"He was threatening her!" Ron snapped, pushing to his feet. His body practically vibrated with anger as his eyes glared accusingly at Malfoy.

"Done no such thing, Professor. Me and Granger were just talking, when this git jumps me." Malfoy replied hotly, defending himself.

"Is that true, Ms. Granger?" Professor McGonogall asked, peering down her nose at Hermione.

"No, it's not." She answered quickly, ignoring the warning looks Draco was sending her. A smug smile crossed Ron's face. "I was trying to go back to Gryffindor house. He wouldn't let me pass. He grabbed me." 

"I see. Well, Mr. Malfoy, you shall come with me to speak to Professor Snape. Accosting a prefect and being out of bed past hours are serious offenses." The professor informed the blonde. Draco was glaring daggers at the two as he turned to follow Professor McGonogall down the hall. "Oh, and Mr. Weasley? I want you in my office FIRST thing in the morning. I feel I need the night to decide your punishment. Fighting in the halls, no matter what the cause, is unacceptable." The Professor called over her shoulder. Ron's smug smile dropped at that.

"My hero." Hermione teased, walking up to him. He gave her and embarrassed grin after she pushed up on her toes to brush a kiss across his mouth.

"Yeah, well. Couldn't let him hurt my girl, could I?" Ron stammered, turning slightly pink.

"Thank you." 

Ron just shrugged a shoulder. He took the hand she held out to him and let her lead him down the hall and back to the Gryffindor house. By the next morning, the entire school knew about the fight, pushing Ron up to near hero status amongst the other students. It was shortly after that, that Draco left school.

"This is ridiculous." Hermione said aloud, shaking off the memories of the past. She looked down at the tiny bits of paper in her hand and cursed inwardly. She shouldn't have done that. She would need to tell Harry and Ron about this now. She didn't know if the notes and the pranks were linked, but it seemed a little too much of a coincidence. 

"Professor?" She whipped around at the sound of the voice and smiled sheepishly when she realized that a handful of students for her next class were standing in the room staring at her.

"Oh, sorry. Uhm, come in, take your seats. I'll only be a moment." She told them, striding quickly to her office, the pieces of parchment still in her hand. Once there, she closed the door and leaned her forehead against it to calm herself. Then, she moved to the desk and place the remnants of the note on it and pulled out her wand, "Repairus." she murmured, watching as the pieces flipped and turned then reconnected until the note was whole once more. After that, she picked it up, refolded it and put in her pocket. This time, she would tell Ron and Harry about it, and see if they'd received anything like it themselves. 

With that decision made, she walked out of the office to greet her next class, pushing the note and her memories away once more.

  


~*TBC*~


	9. Chapter 8

A/N-Sorry it's been so long between updates. I've had the flu, blah. But, here's the next chap. Hope it's all right.

  
  
  


*Chapter Eight*

  
  
  


Ron almost had a spring in his step as he walked down the corridor towards Hermione's room. Today had gone much better than he had ever expected. In fact, if he didn't love being an Auror so much, he'd consider a career change. That thought had him chuckling to himself. Sir Nicholas, who had been floating down the corridor at the same time Ron was, looked at the red head as if he were a few words short of a spell. Ron didn't notice however, he was too busy patting himself on the back.

Through the course of the day (and a gallon of coffee at lunch) his hangover had dissipated to a minor ache in his temples. His mood had improved with each class, as did his confidence. They were only children after all. Of course, they had all been so well behaved, that he was starting to wonder if there wasn't something even more sinister going on at Hogwarts. No children were that good. He had a vague memory of some Muggle movie he'd seen. Something about pod people that were out to take over the world. He chuckled again, deciding to chalk it up to the novelty of having a new teacher, and that the little buggers would show their true colors soon enough. If they didn't, Ron would be hard pressed trying to figure out which one of them was behind all the incidents at the school.

Pushing it aside for the moment, Ron came to a stop outside of Hermione's room and knocked on the door.

"Just a second." Her voice filtered out through the wood, sounding rushed and a bit agitated. He bit back the smile that threatened and felt a sense of awe that she hadn't really seemed to change in the years they'd been apart.

"Oh, Ron. Hello," she said after pulling open the door. She'd seemed to be in the middle of changing her clothes when he'd knocked, since her turquoise blouse wasn't tucked into the knee length, black skirt she was wearing. 

"Hello, Hermione. Thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted an escort to dinner." He told her nonchalantly. She peered at him as if uncomprehending what he had said for a minute, then shook her head.

"Um, yes, I suppose so. Just let me find my shoes." She turned away from him and started gazing around her floor. Ron's brows drew together at the distracted way she seemed to be acting.

"You all right, Mione?" Her eyes shot up to his, confusion in their depths.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be? Ah, there it is." She kneeled down and picked up the match to the one black flat she had already found.

"You just seem a little off, is all." She didn't turn toward him again until her shoes were on and her blouse tucked in. 

"No, I'm fine. How was your first day? I see you still have all your hair, so, I gather it wasn't too stressful." 

Ron thought briefly about not letting her change the subject, but decided against it. If he knew one thing about Hermione, it was that if there was something that she didn't want to talk about, she wouldn't until she was good and ready. 

"Yeah, actually, it wasn't. You?"

"Oh, it was wonderful. I think maybe I missed my calling." He smiled at the excitement on her face, wondering how she'd managed to get even more beautiful over the years.

"Well, I bet Dumbledore would be happy for you to stay on after all this mess is over," Ron told her as they stepped back into the hall.

"I suppose. But, I DO love my job at the museum as well." She gave a little sigh at her predicament, then sent Ron a sharp look when he chuckled. "What?"

"Nothing." She looked at him as if she didn't believe him, but didn't pursue it. She could do without his unique brand of humor just now. They fell into silence on the rest of the walk to the Great Hall. Ron was wondering how she would react if he reached out and took her hand, and Hermione was preoccupied with how she was going to tell the men about the notes and not sound like an over reacting ninny. But, the silence wasn't tense. When they were in school, they could go for hours without talking-or arguing, as they were better-known for-just content to be in each other's company. If they'd stopped to think about it, they would have thought it was odd that they still could.

"Ron, Hermione." The two stopped at the sound of their names and turned to watch Harry trot up to them. He looked like hell, they both thought. Dark circles hovered underneath his eyes which were usually so bright, but now seemed dull as he looked at them. He hadn't shaved, and the dark stubble added a sort of bedraggledness to his appearance. 

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked immediately, concern coating her voice.

"Yeah, you look like you went a round or two with a Dementor and lost," Ron joked.

"I'm fine. Listen, can we postpone the meeting tonight. If your day was anything like mine, there's nothing really to say about the students. They were all on their best behavior with me."

"Well, yes they were for me, as well." Hermione agreed. 

"Me, too."

"Good. So, it's all right, then? I figure by next week we'll have a better feel for them and we can have better opinions then."

"That's fine." Ron answered. Maybe he could convince Hermione to go to Hogsmeade with him instead.

"Yes, of course. You look like you need some sleep." Hermione agreed, torn between relief and guilt that she wouldn't have to tell them about the notes. She'd definitely tell them at the next meeting, but she didn't want to bring it up in the hall where they were surrounded by students and staff.

"You have no idea." Harry responded, his eyes going distant as if he were seeing something else besides them. He shook it off and gave them a tired grin. "It's been a long day."

"Shall we go in? I'm starved." Hermione and Harry smiled at the predictability of Ron's stomach and nodded.

"I hope we don't get any unwanted guests tonight. I'm not in the mood to round up beetles again." Hermione prayed aloud with a shudder.

"Don't think any of them could take it either." Ron jerked his head to indicate some of the more wide eyed students that were peering at their plates, afraid they would come to life.

"Let's just hope our friend needs to recharge before attempting another grand representation of his abilities. I'm too tired to deal with it." Harry stifled a yawn while he spoke and rubbed a hand over his eyes. 

"There's always room for hope." Ron said with a grin before leaving them to take his seat next to Snape. Hermione gave a little chuckle, which died when she saw the flash of raw pain on Harry's face.

"Harry, are you all right?" She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, her eyes following his gaze. Understanding washed over her when she saw Ginny, glaring daggers at the man. With a sniff, the red head turned away and Harry offered Hermione a tight smile.

"Just wonderful." He finally answered, then pulled away to go take his own seat. Hermione sighed and followed. She made a mental note to go see Madame Pomfrey after dinner, to get something for the headache that had made itself her constant companion.

  


~*~*~

  


Dinner, blissfully, was an uneventful affair. Although, it took close to a half an hour for the students to relax enough to actually eat. After it was over, Ron had to hurry to catch up with Hermione before she could disappear up to her room. 

"Hermione, wait." He frowned at the flash of annoyance across her face, which she covered with a smile when he stopped in front of her.

"Yes, Ron?"

"I was wondering if you'd want to come into Hogsmeade with me?" His face was neutral as he asked, but Hermione could practically feel the hope seeping from his pores. Unfortunately, she was bone tired herself, and wanted nothing more than to go back to her room, take a bath and go to bed.

"Oh, not tonight Ron. I'm just so tired."

"Fine. Just figured I'd ask." Ron cut her off before she could say that she would love to go that weekend if it were possible. But, the hurt that burned in his eyes told her that it wouldn't have done any good. 

"Ron, no, it's not like that. It's just been a long day. ."

"I said that was fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow." And so, he turned and left her standing there with her mouth hanging open and eyes trained on the stiff line of his back as he walked away. With a snap, she closed her jaw and huffed indignantly.

"Prat," she spat, then turned on her heel and headed in the other direction, never feeling the eyes on her retreating back.

  


~*~*~

  
  
  


Hermione couldn't sleep. Which of course was the only reason she was out wandering the grounds in nothing more than her nightgown and wrap at close to midnight. She hadn't lied to Ron earlier when she'd said she was too tired to go with him. In fact, after the little burst of adrenalin her anger at him had caused had worn off, she'd barely had the energy to change her clothes and slide into bed.

Of course, the second her head hit the pillow, her eyes popped open as if on automatic springs. She'd tossed and turned for a while, never finding a comfortable spot to relax in. Finally, she gave up and got out of bed. Throwing on her wrap, she decided to take a walk around the castle. How she managed to get outside without really noticing was beyond her.

The night was chilly and damp with the threat of impending rain. It seemed almost lonely, with nothing to keep her company but the moon that was hanging silver and full in the sky. It's color was so bright, that it blanked out the stars around it, like it was jealous of their attempts to shine. The sounds of the forest surrounding the school coupled with the soft whispers of the lake made her feel like a fairytale princess in a book, awaiting her prince to come rescue her.

She scoffed a bit at that. She never considered herself someone who needed saving by anyone. She'd held her own with the boys back in her days at school, and she hadn't risen to her current position at the museum hiding like some simpering female. But, when it was late and she was alone with her own thoughts, she could fancy herself a damsel in distress, praying for some dashing knight to come whisk her off on his steed.

With a sigh at her own folly, Hermione rounded the castle and glanced down the road that led off the grounds. What she saw was definitely not a prince or a knight, and he definitely didn't have a steed. In fact, he didn't seem to have any balance either. She stopped and stared openly at him, her mouth agape with shock. Ron hadn't seen her yet. He seemed oblivious to everything around him. He was staggering up the road, doing an odd little dance every few steps to keep himself upright. When he got closer, she could hear him singing some horribly off key pub song.

"Ronald Weasley! Have you gone mad?" she hissed, walking briskly over to him. He stumbled to a stop and peered at her through half slit eyes, teetering dangerously on his booted feet.

"Mione? Thought ya wenta schleep. Or was tha jus an escuse?" he demanded, slurring his words badly. He reeked of whiskey and smoke and she had no trouble deducing where he'd been.

"Hush, before someone hears you and you get thrown out on your arse for being drunk." she scolded, sliding an arm around his waist to help direct him into the school. "Let's get you to bed."

"Though you'd neva ashk." Ron replied with a giggle. He leaned heavily on her and turned his head to breathe in deep the scent of her hair. "So good." he whispered, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"Ron, I can't carry you inside. You're going to have to help me." She admonished, struggling to get him up the stairs and through the front door.

"I am." He told her loudly, his voice echoing in the main hall.

"Shhh. Do you WANT to get fired?"

"What d'you care?" She paused long enough to glare at him, then went back to trying to haul him up the stairs to the second floor where his room was.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." He chuckled maniacally at the prim sound of her voice.

"Why not? You lef me." he accused, stumbling a bit. Hermione had to fight to keep her feet under her. Good lord, he was heavy.

"Ron, let's not get into this now, all right?" She begged. Sweat had broken out on her skin from the exertion of half carrying him.

"Why di' you leaf me, Mione?" She nearly coughed at the face full of whiskey breath she got when he asked her that question. She looked up to see his drunken blue eyes pinned on her, demanding an answer.

"You didn't exactly stop me." was all she offered, sighing in relief when they reached the top of the stairs. The only sounds between them for the next several minutes was her labored breathing and his boots clicking on the floor. 

Thank God!, her brain screamed when his room came into sight. She just knew she was going to be aching the next day from this. 

"Yerright, I didn' stop you. I never wannid you to leaf, Mione." he muttered as she steered him into his room. The door swung quietly shut behind them. "I die, ev'y day without you." That surprised Hermione so much, that she jerked back to stare at him with wide eyes. The movement caused their feet to tangle up and she suddenly found herself pinned between him and the bed, his hard body pressed intimately into hers. Her breath left her with a whoosh, stunning her into stillness. She could feel the heat of his skin through her thin nightclothes and felt the resulting heat spread slowly through her blood.

"Ron, get up." She demanded, pushing ineffectually against the broad expanse of his chest. She could smell the whiskey again, but instead of being disgusted by it, she felt a thrill dance up her spine. Their mouths were bare inches away from each other, her breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest, his hard muscled thigh tucked between her softer ones. She gasped when she felt his hard length press against her softness, the gasp turning into a moan when she looked into his eyes. They were burning so hot with desire that she thought she would burn from the intensity. Unknowingly, her fingers fisted in the soft material of his t-shirt, not to push away, but to gently tug.

His eyes trailed over her face, to stop finally on her mouth. She could feel herself trembling under his perusal, every cell in her body screaming for him to close the distance.

And when he did, every inch of her rejoiced. She opened eagerly for him, sliding her tongue against his in a way that seemed familiar and new all at the same time. He tasted like alcohol and sin. He felt like heaven. Hunger took over as their mouths slid against each other, each taking the time to retrace old patterns and rediscover the secrets of each other's mouths. 

"So beautiful." He whispered when he pulled away, his hand sliding up her side to cup her breast through her nightdress. She whimpered in pleasure and arched into his touch, turning her head to allow his wandering mouth access to her throat.

"I've missed you," she whispered, combing her fingers through the soft tresses of his hair. Every nerve was on fire, each breath a gasp for 'more'. She was so enraptured by the feeling coursing through her that it took her a minute to realize that he had stopped moving. "Ron?"

When the only response that she got was a loud snore, an irrational anger poured icily over her. With a hard shove, he rolled onto his back, his closed eyes confirming that he had indeed passed out.

"Of all the. . ." Hermione stood and paced the length of the room, shooting dagger sharp looks at the prone figure on the bed. Anger, frustration and desire all swirled inside of her, making her want to ravish him and kill him all at the same time. "Bloody bastard." She growled, stalking over to him. She stood over him for a long time, arms crossed over her chest, breast rising with each indignant breath she took. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she set about making him somewhat comfortable.

After she had his boots off and had managed to shove him at least mostly onto the bed, she turned to leave.

"Probably for the best." She decided, taking one last look at his prone form, before leaving to go back to her own room for a cold shower. She knew that sleep would elude her for the rest of the night now.

  


~*TBC*~


End file.
